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Archive name: templo.txt (oral)
Authors name: SafeWord (address withheld)
Story title : Templo De Talaria

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 2003.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  Any reproduction in any form is subject 
to the express written permission of the author. Thank 
you for your consideration. 
--------------------------------------------------------

Templo De Talaria (oral)
by SafeWord (address withheld)

***

A fetish encounter.

***

"Ignoti nulla cupido" (L), (Ovid, Ars Amatoria, III, 
397).

Translation - for a thing unknown, there is no desire

Music to Read This By... 

Bill Withers... Use Me 
or 
Enrique Iglesias - Bailamos 
or 
Haddaway - What is Love

or even better

Summertime - Janis Joplin


Sitting in the moving taxi she fingered the well-worn 
business card out of nervousness. The inside of the cab 
was too dark to read by, but she knew the words by heart 
anyway.

Templo De Talaria 
Fine Dining for Those with Discerning Tastes.
270.5 W 50th St
New York N.Y.
By Reservation Only

When she had mentioned to a long time confidant that she 
was off to New York for three days on a conference. He 
had smiled and dug into his wallet, handing her the card. 
All he would tell her was that it was an interesting 
place to dine and he thought she'd enjoy the experience 
and gave her his most lecherous smile.

If she didn't like and trust him so well. She would have 
flipped the card right back.

***

Their relationship was strictly a strategic work 
partnership. Both were respected managers of non-
competing divisions, a cordial alliance of mutual 
benefit. He was 10 years her senior in age and understood 
her unspoken motive to cultivate the friendship. She had 
made it clear to him. 

She was not interested in an affair. They were both 
married, career orientated. 
Friendship was as far as their relationship would ever 
go. 

They had both agreed on that.

Well actually, she had laid down the rules and he had 
smiled and agreed to abide by them.

Not that her rules stopped him from noticing and 
complementing her, each and every time she sported a new 
dress, or had her hair done or wore new shoes. 
Not that they stopped him from giving her a small 
thoughtful gift every now and then, for no apparent 
reason.

And especially, nothing, ever, stopped his face from 
lighting up each and every time he saw her. 

Seven years, he had kept his hands to himself but his 
discrete courting of her remained constant, comradely, 
and covert. Their relationship evolved into long intimate 
lunches where they mutually poured out their hearts to 
each other. 
Followed by longer droughts, of him not being around at 
all. When she had asked him, where he had been? 

He had told her frankly. He was staying well away from 
her to try and keep his mind off of constantly 
fantasizing about her. 

She was puzzled, flattered and stirred in spite of her 
resolve. Her marriage wasn't perfect but with a boy just 
starting college. Life was complicated enough without a 
love affair to content with. 

Still, he was tall and intelligent, but she wasn't 
looking for that stuff.


She asked him once what she saw in her and he told her 
straight out. He thought she had a regal air, an 
assertive personality and killer legs. 

She was stunned! 

Well, she knew about the legs, they were her best asset. 
Often, she wore daringly short skirts to work.

She liked getting looks from all the guys. 

It was harmless flirting, but not so harmless around him.

HE never failed to look and darn well made sure, she 
knew, he was looking. 

She felt he could see straight though her clothes. It 
embarrassed her and thrilled her at the same time. 

One day for lunch, she met him wearing a short skirt 
combined with new pair of sandals. He had smiled then 
commented to her that in eight years it was the first 
time he had seen her toes.

So she twirled her feet around and kept them in his view 
the complete lunch hour. 

When she returned to her desk there waited a short 
message on her voice mail.

A deep, well-known voice whispered, "wear those again 
around me and you've got a slave. Want one or not!"

She was stunned but his words had heated her as well. 
She never mentioned the message, neither did he.
So here she was heading off to a restaurant he had 
recommended. 

She was nervous but too curious, to not go. 

***

Stepping out of the cab, the place had an Italian look 
about it. The menu, displayed under glass, was 
comprehensive but fairly normal. 

Only unusual in that it made it clear, no casual Diners 
allowed. Reservation Only.

The uniformed doorman nodded politely as he opened the 
door. The desk clerk confirmed her reservation, asking if 
she preferred the lower or upper deck. 

At her puzzled look the girl glanced at her and advised 
upper. Then ushered her into a little side room with the 
comment that "Ma'am may wish to freshen up," and left 
her. The room was an exquisitely decorated powder room. 
It featured the normal appliances but there was also a 
cute little footbath in front of a rack labeled "for our 
guests." 

The rack contained packaged open-toed evening slippers of 
all sizes and colors.

Each individually wrapped in cellophane. 

A sign explained all... 

No shoes, No socks, No hose OR No Service. 


Unusual! She could not remember any European countries 
imitating the Japanese custom of never wearing street 
shoes inside. It was kind of quaint really. She slipped 
off her shoes. She wasn't wearing pantyhose. The New York 
weather was hot compared to Bangor. She spent some time 
picking out slippers she liked. The pair chosen had a one 
and one halve inch, heel and matched her summer dress 
perfectly.

She wondered if would have to give them back. They didn't 
look cheaply made. 

Not Italian leather perhaps, but not K-Mart quality 
either. 

They felt heavenly and she twirled and posed on a toe as 
she admired herself in the mirror. 

She thought, she looked really sexy in them.

As she exited from the powder room, the clerk discretely 
took her coat and shoes handed her a coat check tag. A 
waiter stood by and offered his arm. 

Taking it, she was escorted into the restaurant's 
interior. 

Thinking to herself, Wow! She hadn't had royal treatment 
like this since her high school prom!

***

The waiter pulled aside curtains for her and she stepped 
ahead of him. The dark interior of the room had a smoky 
tint without smelling of stale cigarettes. 

Soft spotlights played over small tables set in the 
room's center. 

No couples sat together, rather, single men and women, 
shadowed forms, sat sipping on drinks. 

Music started somewhere. Iglesias's... Rhythm Divine. 

She found her step quickening, hips moving, swaying, 
matching the beat. 

Strutting almost... My God! she was too! The spot lights 
had homed in on her as she walked across the center of 
the room, not concentrating on her face, instead lighting 
up her form, playing over her thighs, legs, body. 

The DJ switched the music to a highly edited version of 
In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, that left out none of the tune's 
raunchy message. 

She felt like a stripper on stage. Her heart was racing. 
Her weak legs almost gave out. 

Up a small stair and she was gently shown into an 
intimate dining booth overlooking the main floor.

The escort handed her a menu and asked her drink 
preference. She didn't say no. 

She ordered a double rum and coke. After that unintended 
display... She needed one. 

The drums and Arabic belly dancing music kept pounding in 
her head. 

The music had switched to Cry Baby... She wanted to.

She was so embarrassed and so excited. She was wet! 

As she regained her poise, she looked around. The booth 
was secluded. 

She could see no other diners, except those below her. 
The booths at this level were set above the lower tables 
in a semi circle. 

She could just dimly see the occupants beneath her as the 
spot lights played over them, the beams never pausing, 
just flitting from table to table. 

The music stopped, as the entrance curtain opened. A tall 
raven-haired beauty, stepped into the homing spotlights 
and posed. 

Santana's. Black Magic Woman started up. 

No new comer to this place... Not this regal queenly 
woman. Oh no, a regular... she positively preened in the 
lights. 

Slowly turning, to allow all of her body to be framed, 
shown. Even coyly, reaching down to rub her ankle. 

The spot lights following her every gesture. 

The music switched to TLC - Red Light Special, as she 
sashayed across the room. Into another upper booth, very 
close by.

Shaking her head she tried to make sense of it all. This 
obviously was a make out bar, but nothing like back home. 

She was used to guys hitting on her in crowded smelly 
bars. 

Here she could see plenty of good-looking guys, down 
below, but just barely. And what the heck was this on the 
table? Some kind of keypad made up of lit numbered 
buttons... Most were lit up.

Her drink arrived and she was asked if she wished to 
order now or just relax for a while. 

She wanted to ask about the keypad but didn't want to 
appear too naive and was too shy to ask. 

So said nothing. 

She didn't have to. The waiter pointed out a button 
marked, service and advised her to press it if she wished 
to place an order.

She wasn't sure she even wanted to stay! 

Still... she thought it'd be fun to sit and watch the 
action for a while. 

So she sipped her drink and just watched and was soon 
rewarded. 

One of the lights on the keypad went out and she watched 
a form get up from a table and move across the room and 
disappear seemingly into the wall next to where she was 
sitting. 

No! Not disappear!? The person had slid aside a curtain 
and entered a small room seeming underneath one of the 
booths 

Seemingly! Hell he had? She peeked under the table and 
could just make out a little open space with a seat just 
below her feet!

"Good God" she thought. "Surely they don't expect me to! 
To what?" 

She sat and mused, on the what of what, and ordered 
another double.

The DJ was playing MMM MMM MMM MMM by the Crash Test 
Dummies.

***

She looked at the lit buttons, her heart, in her mouth. 
"My God" she thought. 

The tables were in a diamond pattern, the buttons on the 
keypad in the same matching diamond pattern. 

The spotlight continued to play over the silent forms. 

The song's MMM droned on. 

She was panting, breathless, dripping.

Should she, dare she, would she?

She did.

Taking a gulp of the almost raw liquor she hit a lit 
button. 

Immediately the light went out and she could see a form 
get up from a table. 

The music switched to Angels Would Fall. Melissa told the 
world of sin while she committed one. 

She felt a touch of breeze beneath her as the curtain 
briefly opened. 

She wondered what he looked like, what he would do. 

What could he do?

Gripping her drink firmly in both hands. 

She waited.

Froze, as warm lips touched lightly on the top of her 
right foot then the left.

Shivered, as a wet tongue, slithered, between her toes.

Swooned, as gentle hands removed her slippers, stroked, 
caressed her.

Wiggled, as her toes were sucked into a hot mouth, a 
tongue bathed her feet, played between each tiny digit.

Wondered, as she was worshiped by this stranger this 
wonderful!!! As a fingernail lightly scrapped over her 
foot realized. OH God, women! A women!?

But no longer caring about that unimportant, minor 
manner, now. 

Her hand slid down between her thighs. 

She was hot, so hot, she touched herself, she had to, it 
felt, so fucking good, she was so fuckin horny, so fuckin 
close.

She barely made out the whispered words as a hand slid up 
her leg, her thigh, pushed her skirt back, groped then 
gripped her panty band... 

"Permisso?"

Giving silent approval, she raised her hips and allowed, 
her underwear to be pulled from her thighs.

Allowed herself to be stripped, exposed, naked, for this 
stranger, this unknown women.

Lifted her ankles, so her damp panties could be dragged 
down, over her feet, off her urgent hands pried at her 
knees, insistent. 

She yielded, allowed her legs to be spread apart, 
exposing her nakedness. Hot hands gripped her behind her 
knees and pulled her hips, her wet opening, close to the 
seat's edge.

Close to an unknown other's touch.

She felt hair tickle her legs as lips nibbled , licked at 
her, as a curious tongue probed into her.

Hot warmth of another's face in her hot warmth.

All the while, she kept hearing, "permissio? permisso?" 

OH GOD YES! Permissio anything, fucking anything, just do 
it, DO IT, DO IT!

She reached down, seeking, found hair, gripped and 
dragged the woman's head firmly between her legs into 
place, her space, her opening.

Forced the lips she wanted on her, in her, to her slit, 
her source, her box. 

Forced the licking machine, to lick, ordered it to lick, 
HER!

Held the faceless face. Gripping the women's hair with 
both hands now, she controlled those other's lips, mouth 
and that tongue. Oh that wonderful tongue! 

She drummed her heels on the woman's back, as she gyrated 
the wet folds of her flesh over the face, faceless head 
giving her head, giving her pleasure. 

"Lick me you bitch, you little bitch, you little pig, 
suck it." 

As she spasmed... And again, and again, and again... And 
the damn, knowing DJ played... Reel & Roll... 

***

As her fever receded, the woman continued to lap at her 
cream, clean her. 

She enjoyed it for a while then pushed the head away, 
down off her. Lips moved to her feet but she used her 
foot and weakly kicked, nudged the face away from her, 
off her.

Her slippers were placed back unto her feet, with one 
last light lingering kiss. 

A cool breeze touched her once again as the curtain 
opened and she was alone.

She barely hear, the parting, whispered, "Gracias senora, 
gracias."

***

After waiting what she considered a proper space of time. 
She pressed the button for the waiter and asked for the 
check. 

He advised her that her "Guest" had taken care of her 
bill and offered his arm.

As they walked back across the floor, the spotlights once 
again found her, and the DJ played - You Sexy Thing by 
Hot Chocolate.

She stopped in the limelight and deliberately adjusted a 
slipper that needed no adjustment. Smiled as someone 
knocked over their drink. 

Then head high, smiling, walked out.

***

As she climbed back into the waiting cab, she fingered 
the business card and thought of her friend back home. 

That smug, wonderful bastard's little joke, had lit fire 
in her. Until now she hadn't known she owned.

She damn well knew, how she was going to make him, put 
that fire out.

She tapped her foot in pleasure, just thinking on that! 
As the cab sped away into the night.


END

{Everyone: you may enjoy this or possibly not... but it 
was sure fun to write}


Author's Notes:

Talaria = little wings tied on the feet of gods or 
deities. 

Templo = temple (Spanish)

Think on it :)

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of
the hands of children. They should be outside playing
in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 24