Today’s Special Ch. 01

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Pretty much, anything goes with this one, so be forewarned. As always, comments and feedback are well appreciated.




The feminine grunts carried through the thin walls. Again.

I loved Jillian, my roommate. We’d been friends since grade school and had shared a dorm room all four years in college. So it made sense to get our first apartment together after graduation. But this was the third time in as many days that I’d woken in the night to hear her and Chad, her boyfriend.

Usually, their midnight sex romps didn’t bother me. I understood that with their conflicting work schedules, nookie time was a rare commodity. But I wasn’t looking forward to an early meeting in the morning for my annual review. I’d found out about it on Friday just before I’d left work. With cutbacks announced recently, everyone was on edge around the office. Two coworkers in another department had already been given walking papers, and they’d been there for decades. I knew the talk was that their longevity—not their work ethic or productivity—was the reason for their dismissal, but still…

The anxiety of my pending meeting and the lack of shut-eye had made me irritable enough that I’d intentionally avoided my roommate all weekend. What I needed right now was to be dead to the world after using the bathroom. Instead, I lay there watching the clock on my nightstand, determining how many hours of sleep I’d get if I conked out right now. Listening to the sounds from the other bedroom. Trying not to imagine what was going on.

I rolled over and buried my face in my pillow, dampening my scream of frustration. It wasn’t because I couldn’t sleep but rather the fact that I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d had sex myself. It wasn’t for lack of trying. It’s just hard to hook up with a guy when you worked in an office devoid of the gender except for a few higher-up married executives. And the fact that I wasn’t really a social butterfly meant meeting a guy in a bar or the club scene was nearly just as impossible.

But maybe I needed to work on being more assertive. Soon. The itch was becoming more bothersome. Simulated methods weren’t going to scratch it for too much longer. I needed the real thing.

Another fifteen minutes later, there was silence beyond my bedroom wall. I finally drifted off, envisioning Jillian and Chad locked in an embrace, her head on his chest, him brushing her hair away from her forehead as she fell asleep. Yeah, they were probably stretched out on their own sides of the bed, sweaty and panting if not snoring, but I was a romantic. Sue me.


“We’re sorry,” Jillian said for the fifth time since she’d walked into our kitchen where I was trying to eat an English muffin without getting crumbs on my blouse. “Chad just—”

“I know.” I stood from my seat at the table and moved around her to wash my hands.

She followed me to the sink and put her hand tentatively on my shoulder. “Nina?”

On days like these where she professed her apologies after a night of sex, she was like a cat underfoot begging forgiveness. I was normally in the mood to acquiesce. But today, after this weekend…

I shrugged her off and hurried out of the kitchen before I could lose control of the tears I suddenly felt rimming my eyes. I probably wouldn’t have even heard them last night if I hadn’t woken up to pee. It wasn’t her fault. I was mad at myself. God, why was I such an introvert?

When I stepped out of the bathroom after brushing my teeth, Jillian was right there in the hall.

“What’s wrong? You’ve seemed tense all weekend.”

“Nothing.” I tried to step around her, but she blocked my way.

“Nina, talk to me. You know I don’t like to fight.”

“Jillian, I don’t have ti—”

“Make time!” She shoved my shoulders, my back thumping loudly against the wall where she now held me with the heels of both hands. “We have been friends for too long to carry a grudge. You’re not leaving until you tell me what’s eating you.”

“Jill…” Chad said from the other bedroom doorway.

“Stay out of it!” she snapped at him. Her eyes were wide and a little on the wild side as she turned them back to me.

I flinched…still trying to believe that my best friend had practically body slammed me into the hallway wall. I managed a scoff and pushed back to get away, mumbling, “No one’s eating me. Forget about it.”

The pressure on the front of my shoulders increased. “Out with it. Now. Or you’re going to be late.”

I rolled my eyes and tried again to slide out from under her grip without avail. “You can’t help, okay?”

“You need an attitude adjustment,” Jillian snarled, but the look in her eyes and the tension in her hands had turned down a couple of notches.

Chad chuckled suddenly. “She needs to get laid.”

“What?” Jillian spun her head around to him then back to me.

I looked down and stopped struggling.

“Didn’t you hear her?” Chad came closer, his Escort Sincan hand covering one of Jillian’s on top of my blouse before the pressure eased off more, though not entirely. “No one’s eating her? She’s all moody after hearing us have sex last night? The girl is fucking horny and has no means of release besides her hand. I’d be frustrated, too.”

“Nina?” There was a tad bit of humor mixed in with the concern in my roommate’s voice.

I closed my eyes and heard an audible hitch in my breath when I inhaled.

“Oh, my God!” Jillian was laughing now.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, finally shaking her off and walking back to my bedroom. The heat in my cheeks increased with each step. I grabbed my purse and keys then maneuvered down the hallway where both Jillian and Chad were still standing…laughing softly. At least they didn’t say anything, though I could feel them watching me.


I’d gotten to work barely on time only to find out the meeting had been postponed until later in the week due to my boss calling in sick.

Just. Fucking. Great.

To avoid going crazy, my brain focused on this morning’s conversation at home. I didn’t know which I was more embarrassed about: my Freudian slip, or Chad being the one to figure out my problem. And then I berated myself for having a problem to begin with.

By the time the clock on the computer said it was time to go home, I resolved that I should just hit one of the many clubs in the city on Friday night and let my inhibitions go. Especially if I found out I wouldn’t have a job come five o’clock. But that was still four days from now.

I grabbed some take out and swung into a corner store for batteries on the way home. My rabbit would have to keep me company until this weekend. God, I was hopeless.

The apartment was dark when I let myself in. Not that I wanted to talk to my best friend about my lack of a sex life, but I also wasn’t too keen on the silence that greeted me. It was just another reminder that I was alone.

The TV provided some much needed distraction. I ate then curled up in the couch corner I’d claimed a year ago after we’d moved in. A lone table lamp on the opposite end kept me company during the muted commercials while I considered which club I should visit. That would decide where we went afterwards…my place or his, depending on the club’s proximity to my apartment. Wait, did I care if Jillian would be here? What should I wear?

I was growing sleepy by nine o’clock—my head full of too many questions—and decided to call it a night. I locked up, figuring Jillian was at work, then retreated to the solace of my bedroom. After completing my nightly ritual of scrubbing the day’s makeup off my face and brushing my teeth and hair, I opened my laptop to check Email only to find a note taped to the keyboard.

—Nina, I’m truly sorry about keeping you up last night. I’m going to spend the week at Chad’s since both of his roommates are away. I hope this arrangement allows you to get some rest. As further consolation, I wanted to share something with you. An old friend gave it to me recently, but I obviously don’t need it. Keep an open mind, okay? Love ya, Jillian.—

I blinked at the crisp handwriting. At the announcement that she wasn’t going to be here this week. After the words settled in, I balled up the note, a wave of anger swirling through me. I didn’t want her sympathy. Or her charity.

With a loud growl, I tossed the note into the wastebasket and went about sorting through mail for anything legit I needed to read or keep. The last message was from Shelly, an old classmate from high school. She was moving back to the city and wanted to get together in the next couple of months. So, I spent some time replying, filling her in on what had been going on since we’d last seen each other. Before I signed off, I provided some possible dates to meet up.

By the time I was done, I’d calmed down. My eyes kept jumping to the trash. With a heavy sigh, I attempted to smooth out the crumpled stationary. That’s when I saw the website address printed under the curling strokes of my best friend’s name. The six somewhat random characters below the address.

It couldn’t hurt to look at the website, right?

The address itself seemed innocuous. However, the words ‘Let us arrange your secret rendezvous’ splashed across the top of the page in sexy, black font over what appeared to be red, satin sheets as the background made me raise an eyebrow and laugh. The only other things on the page were two boxes. One was labeled Member Access with eight separate underscore dashes. The other said Guest Access with six underscores.

My pulse picked up after I entered the six characters from Jillian’s letter in the second box and a video began. The woman’s voice that came from the speakers on my laptop was deep and sultry. My nipples hardened just at the sound of it. Despite no one else being in the apartment, I turned down the volume.

Photos of women and men in various Eryaman Escort stages of undress and in more sexual positions than I knew possible slowly moved across the screen in a slideshow while the narrator explained that the owners of the website could make your fantasies come true in a healthy and safe environment. Whether that be straight vanilla sex, soft or hardcore BDSM, ménage à trois, gangbang, interracial, roleplay, girl-on-girl, or anything else that tickled your fancy providing it was legal and had full consent from all parties who were all over 18.

All you had to do was click the link at the end of the video to complete the Rendezvous Request form then send a personal photo and a copy of a blood test showing no STDs or HIV in the past three months to the Email address on the form. Trained professionals would then make your fantasy come true with other members who had similar requests. If no members matched your fantasy, a qualified staff member would be selected to fulfill the task. A disclaimer promised that staff would use the photo for screening purposes only in matching specific physical requests by other members.

There was a short, live section with previous customers gushing commendations before a message popped up stating that the Guest Access code was a one-time, pre-paid gift from a paying member and should be used judiciously. The last screen was a reminder that all requests were final, therefore the client was responsible for verifying that all forms were complete and accurate before submitting.

In small print, I read that although there was a 100% guarantee all clients would be matched up for their fantasy, satisfaction was dependent on the participants. Although contraceptive protection was highly recommended, the client was required for providing it if desired. The company was not liable for any consequences that resulted from a matched encounter, including but not limited to pregnancy, failed marriages, jealous ex partners, loss of job, bruising and/or bodily harm caused by any BDSM implements or other practices used inappropriately, or your favorite piece of clothing being ruined.

Finally, I was presented with the promised link to the Rendezvous Request. I stared at the screen that was the same red, satin sheets from the homepage except that it appeared to be moving…rippling. My mouse hovered over the new link, the only text on the page except for the bold EXIT at the bottom right.

Going to the club and bringing a random guy home sounded so much easier. Then again, there was no guarantee anyone would want to come home with me. And I’d have to speak with him first. With the arranged rendezvous…

Shaking my head, I slammed the laptop lid closed and crawled under the covers. It was a stupid idea. What had Jillian been thinking? Had she even known what she’d given me? She said she’d gotten it from a friend. Really? Maybe she just felt sorry for me.

The longer I lay there in the dark, the more the website idea grew on me.

They promised safety. Especially when it came to health checks. I could embrace a fantasy with a stranger without any repercussions. Without the awkward first impressions and casual chitchat. Then there was that one lady who had said in her testimonial that she loved the idea of anonymity that the company provided. She’d used the service five times already and had never been disappointed. She’d opted to use a blindfold-mask each time, which kept most of her face covered, increasing the level of mystery and therefore arousal for her.

Twice, I got up to complete the form. And twice, I punched my pillow in frustration after going back to bed without answering a single question. I wished Jillian and Chad were having sex next door so I would be motivated to sign up for this secret sex service. Which made me think of being in a roleplay with a guy dressed as a Secret Service agent who had detained me and insisted I have a full cavity search.

Fuck it!

Was I ever going to get this opportunity again? Sex with no strings attached? Everything arranged according to my preferences and taken care for me? Plus, there was the fact that my employer had just offered free blood screening two weeks ago, and I’d opted for the whole shebang on a whim.

Before I could change my mind a fourth time, I completed the form without second-guessing any of the options, hit submit, and sent off a copy of my photo and the test results I’d been given. Then I went back to bed for the last time, not putting too much hope in the service at all. If I didn’t hear anything by Friday, I was still hitting up the club. Maybe.


Thursday evening, I sat in Jillian’s corner of the couch, the table lamp casting its yellow glow around me like a spotlight in the darkness. On my lap was a five-by-eight-by-three FedEx box. I hadn’t opened it yet, but I knew what it was. I recognized the return address from the notes at the end of the Rendezvous Request form. Yet still, I hesitated.

Maybe it was shock that Keçiören Escort the site had actually come through on its promise. Possibly, that I was scared of going forward with this—and what would happen if I tried to back out now. Or even that I feared I wouldn’t be satisfied with how my fantasy actually played out.

In all truth, it was probably a combination of all the above.

I took big gulp of the wine I’d poured for encouragement, set the glass aside with a shaky hand, and pulled the small flap on the cardboard, unzipping the package.

Inside, I found a dual blindfold-mask sealed in a plastic bag, just like that one lady in the video had said she’d used. I pulled on the mask first, testing out its level of snugness and comfort. It was made of silk and was slightly padded yet still thin enough to be lightweight, molding to the contours of my cheeks. It reminded me of Zorro though it was larger like a Mardi Gras mask with the coverage.

I used the reverse camera on my cellphone to see how I looked. I had to say, the mask did hide enough that I could still see without revealing my face for anyone to recognize me. The blindfold part slipped over, covering just the eyeholes like a sleep mask. Both pieces were black and had an elastic band around the back. With both of the items in place, it was pitch-black, even with the lamp on beside me. While it was exciting to be blinded to what was happening—knowing I’d have to rely on my other senses—I would have to see how I felt when I was actually in the scene, as the site had called it.

There were also two sealed envelopes in the box. The smaller one was labeled “Driver”; the other had my first name on it. In the larger envelope was a letter that gave me instructions on the time and date my fantasy would take place, suggestions of what to wear, and how to prepare for the rendezvous. Most importantly, there was a phone number to text after I was home again so that the service could ensure my safe return. It was only a precaution, but if I didn’t text within ninety minutes after the rendezvous was scheduled to end, a staff member would send the local police to the designated location along with revealing the contact information for all participants involved. If anything, they were thorough and cared about their clients. Or at least didn’t want any legal troubles on their end.

The longer I stared at the words in the letter, the more it settled in that this was really going to happen. In case I had forgotten what I’d signed up for, they’d provided a copy of the complete list. I’m not sure which made me more anxious, that I’d said I do all those things or that they were actually going to be done to me. I also couldn’t decide if I was glad I had twenty-four hours to recover my courage, or if I thought I’d worry myself into a nervous breakdown before my fantasy could come true.

I tried to relax by taking a long bath. Although they’d left it up to me if I wanted to be completely bare or not, I chose to shave my pussy to get the ultimate experience. The one drawback was that the process was always highly arousing, and there had been explicit instructions not to have an orgasm the night before the rendezvous. So once I was clean and bare, I lay on my bed in the dark staring at the ceiling, trying not to think of anything sexual.

God, would this week ever end?


I left work thirty minutes early on Friday. I just couldn’t sit still. My boss had delayed my review twice this morning, which had only wreaked havoc on my already frayed nerves. But it had gone well, and I breathed a sigh of relief that I was keeping my job. I had suppressed a laugh when she said the one area she wanted me to work on was being more assertive. The rest of the day had flown by. Until 4:00…

Finally home, I changed, brushed my teeth, and fiddled with pulling my hair back. In the end, I left it down and paced the living room until it was time to go downstairs and catch a cab. I handed the driver the smaller envelope I’d been sent, waiting until he’d silently read the instructions inside—and retrieved a pre-paid credit card that would pay for the fare—before I pulled the mask and blindfold on.

It had been my decision not to know where I was going. The Rendezvous Request form had recommended that option to add to the mystery of the fantasy. I think it actually helped me relax a little. That and the next forty-five minutes of driving. Thankfully, the driver had good taste in music.

Once he told me we’d arrived, he returned the gift card…and asked if I was going to be okay. I reassured him just before I heard the door open and felt the evening breeze caress my exposed skin, including the lower part of my face that wasn’t covered by the mask. Goosebumps prickled my legs beneath the knee-length black skirt as well as my arms where the short sleeves of my top didn’t cover. A large hand with what appeared to be thick fingers gently took mine, helping me out of the back of the cab.

“Uh…thank you. I’m Nina.”

“Hello, Nina. I’m Diego. I’ll lead you inside. Take a step up onto the curb.”

His voice was so sexy. The deep timbre of his accent brought to mind a dark-skinned Latin lover, which made my whole body tremble…my pulse quicken. I squeezed his hand. Hard.

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