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From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} {DonWinslow} "Escapade" (mc, D/s, M/F)
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Date: Wed, 14 Dec 2005 09:10:01 -0500
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<1st attachment, "Escapade.txt" begin>

Escapade  (mc, D/s, M/F)
By Don Winslow

Two long tables had been set up on the floodlit stage flanking a podium 
that was emblazoned with the ornate seal of Boxford College.  Having 
taken their places at the tables, the six panelists were getting 
settled behind the sky blue banners that hung down draping the front of 
the tables.  The banner on the left held the name "Boxford College" in 
bold, cream-colored script; on the right was the title of the week-long 
symposium: "A Woman's Place."

Dr. Gail Fender-Lee, newly-installed President of Boxford College, sat 
behind the table next to the podium, where, at the moment, today's 
keynote speaker, the Pulitzer Prize runner-up Robin Wright, was 
acknowledging the polite applause, arranging her notes, preparing to 
address the group.

Gail had shifted in her chair, twisting to look up at Ms. Wright, her 
smile of respectful attention fixed firmly on her upturned face.  It 
was then that she felt the breath of air fan across her left ear -- 
warm and moist, like a summer's breeze.  Startled, she quivered, as 
though to shake it off.  At that very instant it dawned on her -- she 
suddenly knew exactly what was happening.  He was reaching out for her! 
It was his touch; the electrifying announcement of his presence.  Soft, 
lightly teasing fingertips were felt on the back of her neck, gliding 
up under her collar-length hair.  Her shoulders gave a tiny involuntary 
twitch.  She knew for certain now, just what was happening. It had 
started -- here, of all places!

'Oh god, not now.  Please not now!' she thought with rising panic, 
biting her lip.  She felt the first unmistakable flush of heat.  Under 
the table, her fists tightened.  She had to get a grip on herself; 
determined to maintain her poise, her self-control, to resist his 
caresses, no matter what. 

She waited anxiously, fearful; not at all sure she had the strength to 
resist. She looked down at the tabletop, paused, took a deep breath, 
slowly let it out.   It had never happened to her before, not like 
this, never when there other people around, never in public like this!  
This was something new, a dangerous escalation in the game he played, 
toying with her, possessing her. 

She prayed that he was just teasing her; one of his devilish little 
pranks.   Perhaps it was no more than a passing fancy. Sometimes his 
touch was nothing more than that.  A simple gesture to let her know 
that he was there: his way of announcing his presence

Flushed and feeling that telltale warmth, Gail she sat rigidly on the 
stage, heart pounding, pulse racing, unseeing eyes gazing out at an 
audience of mostly young co-eds.  He touched her again, this time on 
the knee.  She quickened, shot upright in her chair at that teasing 
touch.  The pads of two fingertips glided up the outside of her nyloned 
leg.  Gail looked quickly around her, anxious to see if anyone noticed 
her startled reaction. Her fellow panelists were staring out at the 
audience; the audience, in turn, was giving their respectful attention 
to the speaker.

She sucked in a shivering hiss of breath through clenched teeth as, 
without pause, the wicked fingers slipped up to explore under her 
skirt.  He traced a continuous line from her knee to her hip with a 
touch that was oh so light, the barest trace, a whisper to tease her: I 
am here.

The tormented woman straightened, shivered in spite of herself, again 
looked around, nervously licked her lips.  

A wave of panic rose up in her, she had to flee, yet she remained 
paralyzed, glued to her chair.   It came to her with desperate 
awareness: She was about to be taken,  Right here.  Right in front of 
all these people! 'Oh...please, not now,' she silently begged, never sure 
if her controller could hear her unspoken pleas.  The touch 
disappeared; she felt a wave of relief.  She held herself tense, 
scarcely daring to breathe.

But her relief was short-lived. Suddenly the hands were clamping her 
shoulders, as though holding her possessively from behind.  And then 
those hands came down her front to capture her small breasts. She 
arched back and stifled a whinny as the hands tightened on her beasts 
and he licked up the side of her neck.  She quivered.

His hot breath was on her cheek.  Her lips were pressed back, mouth 
forced opened; her head fell weakly backward, and a sigh that was 
almost a moan escaped from her parted lips.  She felt her controller's 
tongue demand entry; press its way boldly into her mouth in a kiss of 
burgeoning passion.

The President of Boxford College slumped back, splayed out in her 
chair.  Her eyes were closed; slack-jawed, she was breathing heavily 
through her opened mouth.  On either side of her, her fellow panelists 
were eyeing the sprawled-out woman with increasing alarm.  Suddenly, 
Dr. Gail Fender-Lee scrambled to her feet, stood staggering on her 
heels, looking about her like a frantic woman, before turning to rush 
off the stage.

At the podium, Robin Wright, was stopped dead in the middle of a 
harangue about being sensitive to how men used sex to control women.  
Standing there with her mouth agape, she watched her distraught hostess 
stumble off the stage, while her eyes widened with astonishment.


The End
More of Don Winslow's erotic fiction may be found at: 
https://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Don_Winslow/www
<1st attachment end>


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