A Conference Legacy Ch. 05

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Chapter FIVE: An incredible Journey

I spent the rest of the morning finalising the details of my presentation against Louise’s precise presentation plan, and making sure that I had everything I needed for the trip. A last minute service inquiry, which could not wait and which could not be delegated, meant that I was still wrapping out e-mails when Louise popped her head round my office door to signal her readiness for departure.

“Are you ready, Charles?” she demanded in a manner which, if I had not had such a direct and intimate series of encounters with her, could rightfully be considered as a tad insubordinate.

“Yes, just coming!” I replied, not even looking up to meet her enthusiastic gaze.

When I did, I was pleasantly rewarded. She wore a broad smile, her long blond hair brushed back to reveal a radiant face. She also wore a very revealing top and a wonderfully short pale blue miniskirt. She slapped her bare thigh provocatively.

“Come on then, we’ve got a plane to miss!” she firmly encouraged me.

I hurriedly clicked the send button, closed Outlook, and shut down my PC. I gathered up my suitcase and flight bag, and followed Louise at a brisk pace down the corridor and into the already waiting lift. We found ourselves alone in the lift car, and, as soon as the doors had closed, and in the time it took to travel down from the 7th floor, she lifted her skirt, briefly showing me the full length of her bare legs.

“I bet you can’t wait, sweetheart!” she said in a low murmur, letting her skirt fall back to its minimal full length. I did not respond. I simply followed her at a respectable distance out of the lift.

“Off somewhere nice?” asked Dawn, the pretty young receptionist, looking up from her PC screen.

“A conference in Madrid!” replied Louise, smiling broadly.

“Oh! Have a good trip! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!” said Dawn with a slightly cheeky grin. Neither of us replied.

“Your car is here for you. The white Merc.” said Dawn as we walked past the reception desk towards the exit door.

“Thanks Dawn,” I replied, as we manipulated our luggage and ourselves through the clumsily small compartments of the somewhat pretentious revolving doors. I couldn’t help thinking that Dawn herself was also a pretty good candidate for my “best legs in the office” award. Although not spectacular looking, she was definitely one of the “short skirts, bare legs” brigade. I had noticed her observing me sending investigative glances in the direction of her legs whenever she got up from behind her well-screened reception desk – and she seemed to relish my attention.

*********************

The company always used an executive car service for its business trips, and the luxurious white Mercedes with as smoked glass windows was waiting for us right outside the building. The quietly spoken uniformed driver placed our cases in its capacious luggage compartment.

“Keeping your flight bags with you sir?” he asked.

“Yes please,” I replied, speaking for both of us.

He opened the near side rear door, and Louise climbed in and shuffled across to the far side, making room for me to sit next to her in the back. I noticed that her skirt had ridden carelessly up her legs as she moved across to her seat.

“The back alright sir?” asked the driver politely, stealing a casual glance at Louise’s extensive legs as he did so.

“Yes, sure.” I replied, taking my place beside Louise. We both sank back into the soft leather seats as he gently closed the door with that self-satisfied low clunk associated with vehicles of this calibre. He checked that the door was fully closed, and walked round to the driver’s side. I noticed that Louise had not adjusted the hem of her skirt.

“Heathrow, terminal two is it?” he asked, looking at his paperwork. I checked mine, and affirmed.

“You just relax now! We should be there in about 45 minutes. Don’t worry, I’m not the chatting sort. I’ll just put some music on, and you just sit back and enjoy the ride!”

He slid the tinted glass privacy window across with a reassuring click, as some innocuous mood music began to flow mellifluously from the high quality in-car ‘entertainment system’. Louise pushed the leather-covered arm rest between our seats into its upright position and leaned into the far corner of the car, giving me a spectacular view of almost the full length of her perfect smooth bare legs. Her legs seemed to have a sort of luminescent glow about them somehow. They were perfectly smooth, and completely uniformly tanned. Neither a single hair, nor even the slightest hint of a blemish was discernable.

She saw me staring at her legs, and smiled with what can only be described as an expression of complete self-satisfaction on her beautiful face.

“Good, aren’t they?” she said quietly, “I got them waxed last night, just for your benefit. My beautician Angela does a superb job, don’t you think?”

“She certainly does!” I replied, not sure whether or not I was bahis siteleri really being invited to respond.

Louise looked around her, seeming to check out the tint in the windows and the privacy screen. She kicked off her light shoes and gently swung her beautiful long legs up, and across my lap. I was initially somewhat surprised at this move until I remembered the total ease and complete comfort with which she had introduced me to her legs every time we had met in the last two weeks.

“You don’t mind if I get comfortable do you Charles!” she asked. This time, I decided that I definitely was not being invited to respond. I said nothing, but folded my hands across my waist, at least six inches away from the remotest possibility of any direct contact with her smooth bare legs.

I continued to stare shamelessly at them, utterly captivated. I felt her left leg move across my lap towards the backs of my stationary hands. Her right leg remained in position. the result was that I was able to see the crotch of her panties where she had deliberately parted her legs. Her smooth warm calf brushed up against the backs of my hands, and, almost involuntarily, I began to stroke her legs, from her ankles to just above her knees, in long slow movements.

“It’s ok, no one can see us!” she reassured me, taking hold of my hand’ and guiding it onto her smooth warm inner thigh. “You take your time, sweetheart! You just explore my legs all you like – we won’t have this sort of privacy on the plane, will we!”

“I suppose not,” I replied.

My fingers curled round to stroke the smooth cool skin on the under-side of her left thigh, my palm resting on its gorgeous inner surface. As my hand progressed further up her leg, she dropped her right foot to the floor of the car, creating a clear un-impeded pathway to the warm inviting space between her legs.

My fingers brushed against the crotch of her warm panties. There was no resistance.

I ran my fingers slowly and very gently up and down the thin band of cotton between her legs. Her legs opened still wider, enough to allow me to insert one finger under the elasticated side of her very brief panties. Louise shifted her position slightly, to create a little more space, and my finger insinuated itself readily into her wet warm slit. She closed her warm legs around my wrist, and my other hand began to stroke the full length of her lovely long bare legs.

The music meandered on continuously, as the car swept effortlessly along the busy M 4 motorway, through seemingly endless west London suburbs. There was nothing whatever to distract me from the enjoyment of Louise’s complete sexual availability.

The combination of the sensation of her smooth thighs around my wrist, my finger inside her vagina and my other hand stroking both her long bare legs was simply heavenly.

“Happy?” she asked innocently, clearly observing my somewhat glazed expression.

“Very!” I replied, truthfully.

“Well, we’ve only got about 15 minutes till we reach the airport, so make the most of it!”

With that, she reached forward and skilfully un-zipped my fly, thrusting her hot little hand into my underpants. Her fingers gripped my already hard penis very firmly, her index finger playing over its engorged and lubricated head.

“You’re wet already!” she commented without embarrassment. “I hope we don’t end up staining your trousers!”

“You’re pretty wet yourself Louise!” I replied, pushing a second eater finger inside her. “What happens if you hit the bell?”

“That’s for you to find out, isn’t it?” she teased, squeezing my wrist between her lovely warm bare legs.

We stroked and massaged each other slowly and gently, watching the suburbs give way to urban freeways and then finally to the entrance slip road to the airport itself. As we entered the tunnel which runs under the runways, Louise began to buck and writhe, pushing against my intruding hand in a massive orgasm.

“Great timing!” I said as she clamped her legs tightly around my hand. I pulled her hand out from inside my trousers, for fear I would shoot my load there and then.

“Yes, it sure was!” she panted, removing my hand somewhat reluctantly from between her legs. “But I’m afraid that you are going to have to wait – and it could be for quite a while!”

I did not reply.

We gained a suitable level of composure as she put her shoes back on, and adjusted her skirt.

The car drew up at the dropping-off point outside terminal two, and the driver got out and came round, opening Louise’s door to let her out first. As she got out of the car, I noticed a distinctive wet patch on the plush leather seat where she had been sitting. I wondered whether the driver would notice, and whether Louise’s love juices would leave a stain!

I put the somewhat embarrassing question to the back of my mind, and, having signed his docket, helped the driver to remove our cases from the boot. Louise picked up her flight bag, grabbed her case, and, with canlı bahis siteleri me in close pursuit, headed swiftly for the terminal entrance.

**************************

The check-in process for Iberia Airways flight to Madrid was smooth and pleasant enough. The company had booked us into business class, so we were able to use the air line’s express check-in and their facilities in the business class lounge, (shower, bar, etc.) for the two and a half hours before our flight departed.

We decided to have a couple of “calming drinks” before the flight, as it was going to be quite a short one, so we both opted for gin and tonics.

“I’ve only been to Spain once before, and that was when I was about 15.” said Louise as we sipped our drinks, sitting side by side on an airport lounge sofa in the Iberia Business Lounge.

I couldn’t help wondering what her legs looked like when she was 15, but decided not to think about that any further. “I think you’ll find the gins are a bit more generous than these in Madrid!” I remarked, remembering the Spanish abhorrence of optics.

“Fine by me,” responded Louise. “I must say, whenever I fly, I have to have as much gin as possible. Actually, Charles, I have to admit that I really don’t like flying that much. In fact, I suppose I’m pretty flight phobic!”

This surprised me, in someone so young and otherwise self-confident as Louise.

“What helps?” I asked, genuinely concerned.

“Drink, and plenty of distractions!” she replied, with a somewhat tense smile.

“Well, Iberia can provide the former, and, within the constraints of public decency, I’ll do my best with the latter!”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to!” she retorted, this time relaxing her somewhat tense smile to a genuinely pleasant grin.

“Wait till we get on the plane and you’ll find out!” I said flippantly, glancing down at her legs, crossed seductively beside me.

Louise’s expression changed to one of concern.

“As far as my legs are concerned, Charles, I need you to remember that they, and therefore you, remain strictly under my control. They and you are, in that department anyway, here to serve me. Please don’t make any assumptions about your rights to access to my legs on the basis of three or four very brief encounters.”

I was rather taken aback by her directness and her admonishing delivery style.

“Sorry Louise, I wasn’t making any assumptions, just having a bit of a laugh!”

She didn’t say anything further, leaving the inferences to hang menacingly with me – and this they certainly did.

Three large stiff G and Ts later, however, Louise was in a rather more jovial mood. We had talked our way through conference preparation, speculated on the hotel, done all the manwell jokes, (she new of, rather than new John Clees’s work), and had discussed eating arrangements for the evening. I decided to leave the question of sleeping arrangements to Louise.

At the appointed time, we were ushered through to the departure gate, from where we were pushed through the security check. I saw the security guard’s eyes light up when he saw Louise gliding towards him. His expression dimmed, however, when his female superior steped out in front of him to guide Louise through the scanning barier. I watched her run her hands over Louise’s body.

“Please stand with your feet apart!” she said in that authoritative tone only security personnel can muster. Louise obliged, and the woman ordered Louise to remove her shoes. Louise did so obediently. The woman examined them and returned them. Louise balanced deftly on her left foot and raised her right leg to put on her shoe, giving the male officer a slightly more than fleeting view of her long bare legs. She repeated the manoeuvre on her other foot, and winked at him as she collected her few belongings from the change tray.

Nothing more of note happened, but I noticed that I definitely felt a dangerous twinge of jealousy boiling up inside myself. We boarded the Iberia Airways Airbus A320 by way of one of those strange umbilical tubes. Our seats were towards the front of the plane, and, being business class, the cabin was in a 2 by 2 configuration.

We were given a glass of Champaign as we sat down, (Cava, actually, the airline being Spanish), and we dutifully strapped ourselves in.

The hum and swish of the cabin air conditioning system faded briefly, coinciding with the beginning of the engines start up sequence. The engine on the port wing, immediately to our left and behind us, began its low ascending hum, and the cabin air conditioning came back to life.

“I hate this bit!” Louise said quietly, as if not wishing to alarm the neighbouring passengers. “All that waiting while the plane gets on to the runway! I always think that it isn’t ever going to get off the ground!”

The second engine started as the first reached a level note.

I felt her hand clutching at mine, and I gripped it firmly. The plane pushed back out canlı bahis of its parking stand as the cabin crew came round to demonstrate the safety procedures, and how to don a life jacket. The engine noise increased slightly as we taxied out along the taxiways to the runway’s eastern threshold. Oblivious of the presence of the cabin crew, Louise brought our entwined hands across towards her, and pressed mine firmly into the channel between her thighs, most of which were exposed by her short skirt. She parted her legs slightly, allowing our hands to squeeze between them. She then closed them firmly around our hands, gripping them tightly to ensure I could not remove my hand from between her wonderfully warm bare thighs.

“Just till we get airborne!” she said semi-apologetically.

“Fine by me!” I replied, enjoying the feeling of her bare legs against my hand.

The plane made a smooth but for Louise very noticeable 90 degree right turn at the turning pan, paused for a minute, and then, with a brief roar from the engines to get it going again, moved to the holding point, where the pilot paused again, awaiting his take off clearance.

“We are being held here at the holding point while two aircraft depart ahead of us,” said a calm disembodied voice from above our heads. Louise’s legs tightened around our hands.

After about two minutes, during which her legs gripped my imprisoned hand very firmly, the Airbus A320 swung round through a further 90 degrees to take up its position at the far end of the main runway. The aircraft’s engines burst into life, and it then began its organised dash down the runway. I could feel the tension mount in Louise. Her knees clenched tightly together, pressing my hand very firmly between her legs.

“24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29 – off!” I said under my breath. As the plane lifted, and accelerated into its initial steep climb, we were pushed back into our seats. Louise sighed audibly with a mixture of relief and acute anxiety. Her bare legs gripped my hand even tighter, and I could feel her nails digging into the back of my hand.

We swept smoothly upwards. Louise did not unclench her legs until the plane made the first pause in its stepped ascent to its cruising altitude. As the engine note fell, and that peculiar, slightly weightless sensation kicked in, heralding a levelling out at about 6 thousand feet, Louise’s smooth bare legs parted slightly and she withdrew my hand, resting it gently on top of her smooth bare legs.

After about a minute’s level flight, the plane began to climb again, and the engine note rose as the power increased. Again, she pushed my hand downwards, and gripped it tightly between her legs. Once again, I could feel her smooth bare legs pressing firmly around my hand. I took the opportunity to grip the inside of her firm thigh. She neither objected nor responded, her facial colour visibly draining as we cut through a patch of mildly turbulent air. The turbulence was short lived, however, and we were soon in a continuous smooth climb which, after about 15 minutes, levelled off at our cruising altitude of 37 thousand feet.

Louise finally relaxed, releasing the grip of her legs around my unrepentant hand.

“Funny how having your hand between my legs seems to lessen my anxiety about flying!” she said, smiling for the first time in nearly half an hour!

“Well, I certainly wasn’t complaining!” I replied, chancing my luck just a little.

The air conditioning in the plane was very effective indeed. The cabin was very cool, and, though I was relatively comfortable in my light cotton trousers and jacket, I noticed that Louise, in her sleeveless top and very short skirt and with her very exposed unprotected arms and bare legs, had started to shiver slightly. I removed my hand from its resting place on her legs, and reached up to twist and push the air vent nozzle to the off position. I then reached down under my seat and produced a folded light-weight cellular blanket, which I gently spread over Louise’s bare legs, which were noticeably cool to the touch.

“Thank you, Charles!” she said, “very observant of you! That’s a lot better.” She looked round to check the whereabouts of cabin staff, and then gently took my hand and, raising the near edge of the blanket, placed it back on her smooth bare legs, now totally hidden beneath the blanket. She then lowered the edge of the blanket, tucking it down between us, effectively sealing and concealing my hand at the same time.

She leaned back in her seat and, joy of joys, opened her legs, pushing her bottom forward, forcing my hand to move up her legs. My fingers stroked and fondled her lovely smooth bare legs, and proceeded inexorably towards the crotch of her tiny panties.

For the second time that day, I found the thin cotton band between her legs, and once again I gently stroked up and down the length of her cotton-covered slit. I noticed that her panties were still damp from the results of my last visit. This time, however, I did not attempt to invade her underwear, not wishing to draw the attention of the cabin crew or neighbouring passengers.

“I think caution is desirable in this situation,” I whispered, pressing my finger affectionately and firmly between her legs.

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