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Message-ID: <38785asstr$1034637002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sam Cornell" <cornell525@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Transatlantic Delay by Sam Cornell (FF, oral-anal, nc/reluc,  interactive)
Date: Mon, 14 Oct 2002 19:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

The usual warnings. If you shouldn't be here, then go away. If you want to 
make money out of this, you can't. Otherwise enjoy.

Transatlantic Delay (FF, Oral-Anal, nc/reluc, interactive) by Sam Cornell

Part One (Find out about how to contribute to Part Two at the bottom of this 
post).

It felt odd, sitting in front of the screen, waiting to have a conversation 
with someone. But then it wasn't just a screen. A camera, too. I can see 
you. Big deal, I can see you too. I like the anonymity of the telephone, I 
can curl myself up, pull faces, read the news, hell, I can even play with 
myself, safe in the knowledge that no-one gets anything more than my voice. 
This felt a lot more dangerous.

I looked at my watch. Eight pm. Afternoon in NY. I followed the instructions 
on the laminated card, and the machine booted into life. Surprisingly 
quickly, an image appeared, much clearer than I'd expected. Not just "an 
image". Not just "someone".

"Samantha - how nice to see you." Her tone didn't even bother to disguise 
the lie. Ah, Kat, truly a bitch amongst bitches. Formally Katherine Balfour, 
but it was one of her games to direct people to use the cute little 
diminutive the moment she met them.

The screen showed me Kat's head and shoulders. That face. I don't often use 
the word "beautiful", but there was no doubt, it applied to Kat. She was 
almost too perfect. Normally I'm drawn to the features in a face that make 
it individual, like the turn of the nose or something interesting about the 
eyes, but you could look all you liked at Kat's face and struggle to find 
the slightest blemish. Like I said, almost too perfect, although we both 
knew I hadn't always thought like that.

And then, framing the face, as I'd expected, tho it was years since we'd 
last met face to face, was the same old Kat coiffure, golden chocolate hair 
hanging straight to just above her shoulders. No power-cuts for Kat then. No 
doubt it was another part of the spiel. "I don't know why women think they 
have to sacrifice their femininity to get on," she'd drawl in her languid 
Southern way. "Looking like a lady's never done me any harm." But of course 
looking like a lady was exactly how she'd got on. That, cough, and the 
highest graded MBA in her year. Our year.

I wondered whether to use her full name, but decided to avoid such silly 
games now. There was too much at stake here. "Hi, Kat." Throughout the 
negotiations my approach had been painfully friendly. "Interesting to see 
you again, after we've spoken so much on the phone."

Although there was a slight time-lag as the signal crossed and re-crossed 
the Atlantic, almost before I'd finished speaking Kat was checking her 
watch. Small talk was for wimps, or people who liked each other. "Your price 
is too high, Samantha," the face on the screen told me. "You need to drop 
another fifteen before we're even close."

My reaction was to raise my eyebrows in contempt at her approach, but I'd 
forgotten that the little eye in the top of the machine was broadcasting my 
every move. "Problem?" Kat asked archly.

"Even on a historic basis," I replied, "that's an undervaluation."

Although the picture wasn't perfect, I could see Kat was affecting to look 
bored. "Historically, Samantha, thirty per cent of TransMaritime's fleet 
didn't have metal fatigue issues." She was still doing bored, although it 
was meant to convey triumph. Little did she know.

"That's not public knowledge," I said, my heart pounding. That got her 
attention.

"It...er...I know that...somewhere... Listen, it's public knowledge." Even if it had 
gone nowhere else, seeing the great Kat struggling for words would have been 
worth it.

"That information, Katherine," so now was the time to start the grind, "was 
only known to the engineers, who've signed confidentiality, the board, and 
me." Kat still looking confused. Shit, I'd expected her to get it together 
by now. Whatever, it was time to drop my bombshell. "Didn't you buy an 
option on two million TSM this morning at fifty?"

She was shuffling through her papers now, looking for answers that weren't 
there. She looked up, and the technology was good enough for me to see the 
fear in her eyes.

"Sam," - now she'd resorted to my diminutive - "I'll get back to you in 
five. Don't go away, please." It was the first time in the seven years we'd 
known each other Kat had asked me for anything. It wouldn't be the last.

***

The road to my triumph began two weeks before, when I'd bumped into Donovan 
Stephens in a Soho bar. That's the London Soho, btw. The original one.

"Samantha!" Donovan looked me up and down, lingering, as always, on my 
breasts. I don't know why, there's nothing much to see there, but I guess 
it's a habit some men have, like a preliminary glance at the menu.

"Hello, Donovan, how's things?" My face is up here, jerk.

"Cool." Although he was quite short, maybe five seven, Donovan was every 
inch Wall Street. Everything worked, until the package was almost too 
convincing. A babe, though. "Just over here a couple of days. What a shitty 
city."

Now I know I've been known to make the odd disparaging remark about this 
sceptered isle (hey, how come Word spellcheck doesn't recognize 
Shakespeare?), but the truth is mostly I love it here, I just like to tease 
is all. After all, you guys invented humor, right? Anyway, number one 
guaranteed to rile me up is Americans who diss the place. Ironic, huh? 
Actually not, I reckon the time I've served here gives me the right to 
comment. Not so Donovan.

"Now, now, Donovan, always be nice to the natives. Then you can sell your 
beads to them."

"Yeah." He took a long slug of beer. Careful, boy, it's stronger over here. 
"Hey, guess who I'm working for." I gave him the flat unimpressed look I 
always reserved for preppy types asking stupid questions. I wasn't in the 
mood for an hour and a half reeling off all our mutual acquaintances. 
Surprisingly, Donovan got the message. "Right. Kat Balfour." That was 
interesting. Particularly seeing as she was currently giving me the 
runaround on the TransMaritime deal.

"What's she like?" I asked. Donovan grimaced. No surprise there then. I'd 
always known all that effortless charm was saved for faces that could help.

"She gets things done," Donovan said carefully. "As for *how* she gets 
things done, well, I'm guessing it's okay so long as she gets away with it."

Now he really had my attention. "Donovan, let me get you another beer. You 
should try the Belgian ones - so much more flavor than the stuff back home."

***

I didn't bother counting down, but it was pretty much spot on five minutes 
that Kat came back to me. I was pleased to see she still looked totally 
discomfited. "Sam," - still thinking that was the way round me. Just how 
shallow did she think I was? - "you know how much paperwork there is, I 
haven't had the time, but I'm sure I read somewhere..."

I decided to cut in. Not often you did that to Kat. "Kat, I understand." She 
looked pleased, if confused. "Right now I've got issues with the video link. 
I need you to call me on this mobile number." I read it out, and the way she 
diligently marked it down proved how successfully everything was working 
out. "Call me discretely."

I switched off the screen without even waiting for a response. She'd call.

Sure enough, in just a few seconds, my little Nokia was calling out to me.

"Listen, Sam..."

Again, I cut in. "No you listen. You can search all you like. I'm telling 
you the metal fatigue is not public knowledge. And I don't need to tell you, 
because you were always such a bright girl, that the video conference was 
recorded for the benefit of both the SEC and FSA." They wouldn't check it 
without a tip, of course, that was impractical, given the number of 
conversations going on, but then tips did happen... "And I also don't need to 
tell you it's my duty to report my suspicions to the FSA. Otherwise I'm 
guilty of an offence, too."

"Sam, I swear I didn't get the information from an inside source." Yes she 
did, she got it from Donovan Stephens, shortly after he got it from me. He 
may have been slightly inaccurate, and indicated the information *was* 
public, but that was his word against Kat's. And mine, I s'pose, because it 
was just after he put the phone down from telling her that he gave me the 
ass-fucking he thought was his reward, but actually turned out quite a treat 
for me, too. Course his other reward was revenge on his boss, but that was a 
pleasure we were all just beginning to enjoy.

"Whatever, Kat, in the current post Lay climate, you won't stand a chance. 
You understand that, don't you? Even the suspicion will be enough." She was 
silent. "Kat?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Now, despite everything that's happened in the past, I don't 
particularly want to see you ruined." That was a lie, it would have been 
bliss to destroy Kat's career. But there was an even more blissful option, 
is all. "But then I'm taking a risk. So...that doesn't come cheaply." Up to 
that point I'd been negotiating, and all I'd felt was the adrenalin and 
clarity of pulling off the coup of my life. But now, now I was moving into 
the final stages, my whole body felt hot, my throat dry. As I'd said, I was 
risking a lot, but for what a prize...

"How much?" Kat sounded defeated.

"Wrong question."

She was silent, her mind presumably considering what anyone could possibly 
want other than money. Then maybe it clicked. "What then?"

"We can go back on to the video link." My laminated instruction card told me 
how to ensure everything was "off the record". I was getting used to the 
technology fast. Only had it installed in my office that week, can't think 
why...

After a few seconds we were up and running. Although all the details were 
the same, Kat looked very different from just a few minutes ago. "What do 
you want, Sam?" Her tone was nervous, frightened, not aggressive.

"I reckon I have two, maybe three, weeks, I can justify holding on to this 
material before going to the FSA. After that, I'm complicit. Before that, 
you do what I tell you. Simple."

"I..." She was blinking at the screen, at the eye. I could only imagine how 
difficult it was, coming from hard bitch to victim in less than an hour. How 
sad. "What do you mean?" I think really she was stalling. Didn't work.

"Show me your breasts." The delay was about a second, maybe two, as my 
demand crossed the ocean, and her response came back. She flinched.

"I...Shit, Sam, listen, I had a real good bonus this year and I..."

I cut in once more. "This isn't a negotiation. I'm only going to say this 
one more time. Either you do exactly what I say, or I hand the tape to the 
FSA. Now, decision time."

Kat carried on blinking. I truly think she was suffering from some form of 
shock. Then "Okay. But I've gotta sort out my office, you understand?" Her 
acquiescence hit me like a wave, as if my body had previously refused to 
anticipate success. But now I could feel the wet need between my legs. I 
slid down my chair, under my desk, and slid my skirt up my thighs.

Kat was back. "Okay, I'm secure. No-one can see. I think." She looked around 
nervously.

"Show me them. You need to tilt the eye down some. That's better." I now had 
Kat's face and the upper half of her body in view. She began toying with the 
buttons of her blouse. "Get on with it," I said cruelly, "show me your 
breasts."

She glanced heavenwards quickly, shame and embarrassment written all over 
her face. Then she was unbuttoning, her eyes always looking away from the 
screen and the eye. When she was all the way down she pulled her blouse out 
of her skirt waistband, to leave it hanging outside. Where it was open, I 
could see the flat smoothness of Kat's stomach and the lace of her bra. 
"Pull your blouse open," I commanded her, "you don't have to take it off." 
She complied, quickly, nervously. "You can keep your bra on, just lift your 
breasts out of the cups."

Once again the glance up, and then Kat reached up and, hooking her 
fingertips into the cups she pulled them down, exposing her bare breasts. 
Fuck she was hot. Pale white, (Kat was not the kind of girl to go topless, 
anywhere), dreamy brown nipples about an inch and a half across, even on the 
screen I could see they were erect, naughty Kat, and despite the thousands 
of miles between us I found myself poking out my tongue, so strong was the 
urge to chew and bite them.

"Play with them. Play with your tits, Kat." I slipped a couple of fingers 
inside my knickers. I was soaked already. Kat was squeezing and rubbing her 
breasts, a little half-heartedly, I felt. "Pull your nipples." Again, the 
delay. Then just a little bit of play between fingers. "Properly. Tug them. 
Hard." She did, tho not with the viciousness I really wanted. Whatever, her 
relative obedience was both surprising and encouraging.

"Okay, come close to the eye." My screen was full of Kat's navy blue skirt. 
It was odd having such a cut-off view, like I was directing my own porno 
movie. I guess in a way I was. "Lift your skirt up for me." My fingers were 
busy between my legs, one, two, poking into the wetness that was my cunt.

"Sam, I..."

"Just fucking do it, Kat." A little resistance was exciting, but I didn't 
want to encourage her. I saw Kat's fingers reach down from the top of the 
screen, down to the hemline, then quickly lift her skirt up to her waist. 
Mmm, navy pantyhose and underneath what seemed to be simple navy knickers. I 
had an image of Kat standing in her locked office in New York, her skirt 
lifted up exposing herself to my face on the screen. I pushed my fingers a 
little further into my pussy.

"I want you to know, Kat, that I'm touching myself looking at your knickers, 
my pussy's very wet, and I've pushed two fingers inside myself. Did you hear 
that?"

"Yes."

"Now show me your cunt. Drop your knickers. Not far, just to the tops of 
those lovely slim thighs of yours." I waited. It was more than the delay. 
"Show me your cunt, Kat." Her fingers were hovering.

"Sam, I can't."

It was funny that her refusal just increased my arousal. "Pull your 
pantyhose down. That's good." Adopting a slightly more encouraging tone 
seemed to be effective. "Now your knickers. Just to the top of your thatch. 
Mm that's good. Why don't you put your hand inside, Kat? Touch yourself." 
Now my mental image, the one added on, so to speak, to the pictures on my 
screen, changed to long-legged Kat standing in front of the machine frigging 
herself. "Yeah, that's good, play with yourself." On screen her fingers were 
moving under the fabric. "Now show me your cunt, Kat." I couldn't command 
any more, my voice was too heavy with desire, but this time it worked and 
she teased her panties down just enough. Mm, a nice neat chocolate brown 
triangle of hair, just like I'd hoped and fantasized about.

"Now touch your cunt, Kat." Although I couldn't see it I was sure Kat was 
flinching every time I used the word. Which was the point, really. She was 
brushing through her pubic hair, creeping where I wanted her. "Go on, touch 
it." Then, reaching out her forefinger, just teasing the top of her slit, 
seeking out her clit. "Open it. I want you to open it wide." Again there was 
a delay longer than just the transmissions, but before I had time to repeat 
my command Kat was reaching down with the fingertips of both hands, teasing 
along her lips, slow, uncertain, scared. "Open wide." And she did.

There was something obscene about the image on my screen, maybe because the 
pink fleshy beauty of Kat's sex was transformed into something literally 
pornographic through electronic transmission in such close-up detail.

"Okay, turn around." I could only imagine the uncertainty or confusion in 
Kat's eyes at this latest turn. Imagine and savor.

Kat's ass was beautiful. I have, I know, described in awe many bottoms in 
the past, and I'm aware it's my weakness. But Kat's really did stand out, in 
a way, I think, literally. She had, naturally and without making the 
slightest effort, a superb body, but Kat wasn't a girl to leave everything 
to nature, and so she worked out, lightly, giving her thighs and lower back 
the faintest hint of muscle-tone. But her ass was soft white flesh, maybe 
supported and shaped by her physique, but in itself pure and simple and 
utterly inviting. And I didn't even need an invite.

"Show me your bum, Kat." Again, I could imagine the puzzle on her face. 
"Yeah, been in London too long, Kat. These Brit girls have pretty little 
asses, you know. Don't mind showing them, either, if you ask them in the 
right way. Tell the truth, Kat, until you turned around I thought I couldn't 
get enough of them. But now when I see your pretty bum, Kat, I'm reminded 
there's nothing better than home-grown. But you know I've always liked your 
ass, don't you?"

I couldn't really hear a reply, after all Kat was standing up and facing 
away from the mike, but she knew.

***

Way back when we were all hungry little MBA students, Kat's charm was 
offered around a little more generously. Seemed every class mentioned 
"networking", and of course we all had it in our minds that ten years time 
we'd be CEOs of something grand. (This was just before dot com, to put it in 
context). Of course it was obvious to everyone Kat was a stuck-up bitch, but 
at least she was a stuck-up bitch who pretended she wanted to be everyone's 
friend.

The funny thing was, despite her beauty, in some ways Kat wasn't very sexy. 
I think she was a little too aware of her looks, which most of the time made 
her seem a little stiff and formal. But every now and then, when she'd had a 
few drinks and metaphorically let that lovely chocolate hair down, she did 
turn a little flirty. With me.

At business school I'd toned down my pick and mix approach to sexuality, 
thinking, probably correctly, that it wasn't the way to get on. But it was 
no secret, amongst my peer group at least, that my lovers were women as 
often as men. To the extent she gave anything away, most of the time Kat 
gave the impression she disapproved, but a little alcohol and she changed. 
Most typically she would come over and sit next to me, too close, resting 
her head on my shoulder, the outside of our thighs brushing together. And 
talk in the most glowing terms about how "together" I seemed. "In every 
way."

Well by then I wasn't a fool, yes I was almost certain she was coming on to 
me, but she was also a confused bitch I didn't like very much, so despite 
all the attractions, I did nothing. Until, one evening, we were really 
blasted, I think we'd both just scored two highest marks on some paper, she 
was resting her head on my right shoulder as usual, and she was laying it 
all on very thick, about how inexperienced she was, how experienced I was, 
how I must really understand what turned a girl on.

And I just let rip. "Sure I know how to make a woman feel good." At this 
point it was still, theoretically, ambiguous as to whether we were talking 
masturbation or sex. Not for long. "The best for me," I continued, warming 
to the task of talking dirty to someone I normally thought of as so 
unapproachable, "is pushing her knees right up, up to her chest, then you 
get the best of both worlds, you can choose, do you love her puss or her 
ass?" Kat's head moved comfortably on my shoulder, encouraging me to 
continue, go further. "If it was you, Kat, I think I'd love your ass. Pull 
your cheeks wide apart, poking my tongue out, drawing it across your 
asshole..." Then, sudden as anything, her head was gone, and when I turned 
around she was looking drunk but determined. Thirty seconds later she was 
out of there.

I think, and I don't believe this is just retrospective justification, she 
was flirting and she got scared. It had taken plenty of signals for me to 
even begin responding. But when it came down to it, all the voices in her 
head told to her run.

Fair go, I've no problem with that, but she did, and thereafter Kat's charm 
was quite definitely withheld from me. Mostly it was just a pain in the ass 
for everyone, people asking "Why all this tension?" when I could hardly 
explain. I wasn't ostracized or anything, it just put a dampener on 
everything. Whatever, she hadn't spoken a civil word to me since, and when 
our professional paths had started crossing she'd kept it up, even giving 
the impression that every little bargaining victory was some sort of revenge 
for that evening. `Til I'd found a way to swing the pendulum back.

***

"I want your bum wide open for me, Kat." Her hands were nowhere in sight on 
my screen. I was brushing gently around my clit with my forefinger, it would 
have been the easiest most delicious thing in the world to cum just looking 
at her bare butt, but I held off. "Come on, open up wide and show me that 
pretty little asshole of yours."

Her hands came into view. So immaculately manicured, and some elegant pink 
nail polish too. "Open your ass." I was having to keep my fingers away from 
the little button of electricity that was my clit, I was so excited. "Open 
up your hot ass and show me your asshole."

The manicured fingers gripped her butt cheeks, and then Kat was doing it, 
exposing her most private place to the camera, to me, opening and displaying 
her vulnerable little hole. It was breathtaking, being able to feast my eyes 
upon the anus of this beautiful woman. "Bring it closer," I said, and my 
imagination switched to her office, and this tall haughty woman with her 
skirt around her waist baring her ass to the screen.

I held her there for minutes, while I took in all the details, the contrast 
in skin colors between the pure creamy white of her buttocks and the 
brownness around her anus. Like a stain. The dark brown wrinkles of her 
asshole, almost like the swirls of a Bridget Riley painting, drawing me 
hypnotically into the vortex, the focus of my lust.

"Looking at your asshole makes me so fucking wet, Kat. I'm touching my cunt 
now looking at your tight little asshole." Coincidentally I could see at the 
bottom of my screen that Kat's pussy was dripping honey, the naughty girl. 
Seven years of waiting felt good, whatever her conscience said.

In a way I was curious to see her cum, and if she'd been actually present in 
my office that's probably what would have happened, as part of my reliable 
old routine. But she wasn't and anyway, this was all about me.

"Okay, sit down, Kat." It still looked weird, watching her walk away from 
the camera, the firmness of that gorgeous fucking butt, but then she was sat 
down in her chair again. Her nipples, I noticed, were stiff as anything, and 
she did nothing to cover them. "Now you keep looking at the screen, Kat, 
right throughout this, you understand?" She nodded. It was funny how once 
she'd acquiesced I hadn't had to repeat the threat once.

Tearing myself away from the delicious ruin of Kat's appearance on my screen 
I turned away from the screen and knelt on my chair, facing away. I pulled 
out my vanity mirror and wedged it in the gap between the metal of the chair 
back and the leather cushion. Although I was facing away from the screen I 
could see where Kat was looking. In fact she gave the impression of looking 
slightly down, but that was only because the eye was above the screen. She 
was watching me alright.

I backed up a little towards the screen. Kat's eyes didn't waver. "Okay, 
Kat, you were always best in our class at figuring out what the other side 
really wanted. Make me happy. Ask me."

Her eyes were still fixed just below the screen. She licked her lips. 
Nerves. And anticipation. "Show me your ass, Sam. I want you to show me your 
ass." It was a turning point, and we both knew it. No longer was this mute 
obedience to avoid the end of her career. She was playing the game, and 
enjoying the game, too.

I'm quite tall, quite slim, but I like to think my ass has a nice curve to 
it. Whatever, my skirt hitched up without any difficulty. Kat licked her 
lips again. "Now pull down your knickers." Yes, playing the game to the 
full. I hitched down my pantyhose and panties until they were half way down 
my thighs. I now had a sense of the strangeness Kat must have felt, baring 
my behind to a face on a machine, a face that wasn't even looking directly 
at me.

"That's good, Kat, go on." Even on the reflection of the transmission I 
could see she blinked, and I guessed she hadn't expected to have to talk it 
through any further.

"Open it up." She hadn't looked away once.

"Open what up?"

"Your ass, Sam. Open your ass up." Whenever I'm doing this, I can never 
quite decide which is the supreme moment. In abstract I love the idea of 
seeing, exploring, but in practice there is something gloriously wanton 
about separating my ass cheeks for another woman's pleasure.

I was soaking wet, and very close. Just a few more finishing touches. "What 
can you see, Kat?" She half-nodded to herself, as if she'd expected that Sam 
would always ask for more.

"I can see your ass, Samantha." She was smiling, teasing. And if I wasn't 
mistaken from the way her right arm was moving, she was touching herself, 
too. "I can see your asshole." It was the first time, ever, that I had heard 
Kat use a dirty word. (I don't count "ass"). It was worth a hundred images.

Of course the further Kat went, the further I wanted to take her. "That's 
good. We're nearly there." It was true, whatever my original intentions this 
had turned into joint masturbation - not only was Kat clearly frigging 
herself she was also playing intermittently with her nipples. "Okay Kat, 
it's now nine in the evening here, if you were kneeling behind my ass what 
do you think it would be like?"

She looked a little confused. Was I talking about the weather, the food, my 
office? "My ass, Kat, I've been at work nearly twelve hours, if you were 
kneeling on the floor behind me, what do you think my ass would be like?"

That got through. Her right arm stopped. I could see she was thinking what 
to say. "Hot."

"Not good enough." She looked down and then mumbled something but the mike 
didn't pick it up. "Louder."

Another glance to heaven but the right arm was moving again. The girl 
couldn't help herself. "Dirty."

That was nearly good enough, but I wanted this to be exactly right. "Not 
quite, Kat, not quite. Spell it out for me. We're both going to cum in a 
minute," - so now she was a fully complicit partner - "and as we do I want 
you to poke your tongue out like you're licking my dirty asshole. But before 
you do you have to tell me what it's like being there, using your tongue, 
pressing it right against my hole."

Again, the delay, but nothing more than was caused by the connection. "I'm 
licking your asshole, Samantha," she was disobeying me, but how, poking out 
her tongue but between the words, because she was too excited to wait and 
she wanted to imagine it too, "I'm licking your dirty asshole...it tastes 
dirty...and smelly...and sexy...and shitty...unnh..."

I came so hard, fucking my ass back against Kat's imaginary tongue, nearly 
losing my grip on the chair as shockwave after shockwave spasmed through me.

For some seconds I just stayed there, kneeling on the chair, not trusting my 
muscles to move me, but finally flopped around, and collapsed back onto the 
chair. Looking at the screen, I could see Kat was slumped back in her chair, 
flushed, a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and a nice post-orgasmic 
blush to her chest. Her nipples were still swollen with arousal. She was 
also smiling. Before I began that would have been a failure, but now I found 
I was pleased we had shared the enjoyment.

"Okay," I said, my voice so quiet I wasn't sure the mike would pick it up, 
"I guess life must go on. But we need to discuss TMS again." For a moment 
Kat's face dropped, and I was surprised to feel a little sorry for her, but 
when I carried on she figured out what I meant. "Same time tomorrow, same 
channels, yes?"

She nodded, slowly and reluctantly sorting out her clothes.

"Oh, and one more thing," I continued. "The negotiations will be 
more...interesting if you wear plain white knickers for me. Okay?"

There was the usual two second delay. "Okay."

End, of Part One

Okay, I have lots of ideas for Sam and Kat, and will post them shortly. But 
I'm guessing a lot of readers have their own thoughts as to what would be 
hot. I haven't written Part Two yet, so I'm thinking we could all have more 
fun if I include your suggestions. Don't be shy, if you want to stay 
anonymous then it only takes 5 minutes to set up a Hotmail account. I can't 
promise to include your ideas, but I always reply to mails. Let your 
imagination run riot...




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Join the world's largest e-mail service with MSN Hotmail. 
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