Vicky, fellow renter

After a few weeks, you’ve noticed someone not on your floor, a woman by the name of Vicky, keeps pulling in men and women and having a good time with them. You could never muster up the courage as even though you were a queen in the boardroom, you were much more closed with your private life. Read books, did yoga, watch tv and the occasional porn.

You’ve seen her when you aren’t feeling buzzed too, and she is amazing, at least as tall as you if not a couple inches more, she keeps her blond hair faded on the sides and short on top in a 2-inch cut. You can’t see any tattoos but you would not be surprised if she had some. She generally wears a white blouse with black pants and suit jacket, unbuttoned. She’s got a pair of firm, perky tits, that you find yourself daydreaming over sometimes.

But a few nights ago, you went to her and saw if she could accommodate you. You’ve imagined it, as you’ve slept. Naked except for a leash around your throat, being to sensually lick Vicky’s pink folds, with the occasional sting of pain. You pulled out a small piece of paper, and wrote a small introduction to her and told her what you wanted. You let only your initial and apartment number on it, and a couple days later you got a response.

It read: “Dear Miss J, so you want to see what I do to make other men and women wrap themselves in knots around me? Very well. Don’t reply to this letter, sweetie. I will be at Rise Bar, 859 Ninth Ave, I will be looking for you.” -V.

So here you are now. Waiting on someone that might not come, sipping at a cocktail.