Cheryl was interested in fingers... Grasping her shoulders, guiding her into place, bending her over. She wanted to wait for them. Feel the tingle and rush of blood downwards while the fingertips traced a line along her spine from neck to tailbone. She wanted to be told to wait. And she certainly wanted to have to beg.
Of course, I was more than happy to help out.
First, I took her out for a drink and a chat, lounging around long enough for her to start wondering if anything was going to happen. Once she'd given me that look - the one that says something like "look, I'm a grown woman, I'm going home for a nice, satisfying wank if you don't pull your thumb out..."
This was in the hotel bar. We didn't have far to go.
I steered her towards the lifts, hand lightly placed on the waistband of her jeans, fingers hinting at my intention to move further down the swell of her buttocks at the earliest opportunity.
Secondly (I'm breaking my helpfulness down into a convenient list here, remember), after some promisingly hot kissing I sat down in a chair facing the foot of the large bed in my roomy hotel suite, and told her to stand there for a bit.
Cheryl faced me, hands on hips, standing tall in her five-inch heels, first pouting, then arching an eyebrow.
"Turn around." I instructed, quietly.
She did. "Stop. That's good. Show me your arse."
Cheryl leaned forward to give me a good view of her behind.
"Bend over all the way, your hands on the bed... Good. Now spread your legs a little."
I stood up, came in close and put my hand on the back of her thigh, running it up over the tight denim, just sliding in between her thighs long enough to remind her what she was missing out on, two fingers briefly pressing on the seam in the crotch.
Then I sat back down. Cheryl let out a huff of frustration.
"Are you in a rush?" I asked, as innocently as I could.
She looked at me over her shoulder, smiling with a hint of sarcasm and shook her head no.
"Just checking. You seem impatient."
"Mmm hmm..." She wiggled her bottom for emphasis.
"Take your jeans off, then. Let's see what you have on under there."
Like a racer at a starting block, Cheryl stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped with enthusiastic efficiency.
"Hey, slow down. I'm enjoying the view here... You could do with a bit of stripping practice."
"I just want to get these off," she said, already wiggling the jeans down her hips. "I brought something I want to show you, actually."
"Oh? Then please go ahead. Just do it slowly. And turn around when you bend over... I want a good look."
She did very well with these instructions, despite seeming to lack the sensibilities and timing of a stripper. When the jeans were discarded, she peeled her top off with a bit more haste, and then reached for her purse, grinning at me with a glint in her eye.
Sitting down in the chair next to mine, Cheryl made a great show of unfurling a pair of black thigh-highs and pulling them on, stretching her legs out langorously, smoothing the nylon against her skin, adjusting the hold-up elastic around the top, then standing up to check herself in the mirror, adjusting for straightness before turning to me as if unveiling a present.
"Excellent." I wasn't sure how well I was doing at feigning disinterest in her long legs, curves, her pink little nipples visible through the white lace of the bra, or the state of her wet cunt.
It wasn't difficult to tell from the spot, soaking through the pink silk of her knickers.
Cheryl noticed me looking. Cocking her hips, inches away from my face she undid the knot in her hair, letting the dark brown curls tumble around her face in a practiced move, designed to cause maximum devastation.
My face must have told her that she was now in charge. Unbidden, she turned around and assumed the same position as before, bent over at the foot of the bed. I took note that she was smiling expectantly at me over her shoulder, knowing that she was bound to get some attention soon.
Which she did.
The first slap on her arse was just for warmup, a playful swipe, but it came as a surprise.
Then, steadying her with the heel of my hand at the base of her spine, I quickly delivered a series of increasingly forceful strokes on each buttock in a "tap-tap-SLAP" rhythm, gradually dialling up the intensity from stinging to intolerable.
She wiggled away from the final strokes, the skin of her buttocks colouring from pale to pink to red. There were a couple of handprints where I'd delivered the sharpest finales.
"Ow." She said it as if she was thinking about it, deciding whether she had liked this treatment.
I reached out for a cold glass bottle of sparkling water, fresh from the bar downstairs, and pressed it against the throbbing red skin.
Cheryl's "Aaaahhh!" sounded more decisive than the "Ow."
Just to check, I slid a couple of fingers beneath her knickers.
"You always get this wet when you're spanked?"
"I don't know. I haven't been before."
"Stand up straight," I told her. "Let's see how wet you can get..."
I pulled a pair of clamps out of my pocket, and clipped them on her nipples. Grasping the back of her neck with the other hand, I bent her over again so that she could feel the pull of them dangling, pulling her nipples straight out.
I spanked her some more, containing her wriggling bottom with both hands, stroking her pink and red skin in between a flurry of strikes.
Then I slid a couple of fingers inside her.
Almost surprised, she arched her back and pushed back against me, hungry for the stimulation.
With my other hand I reached around and dangled the clamps around with my fingertips.
"Mmmmm." Cheryl was enjoying this. "Those clamps don't really hurt very much..."
I released both in quick succession while she was talking.
The sharp jolt interrupted her mid-sentence.
"Ow!" This time, it sounded decisive.
And this was the sound of discovering a sensation she would definitely want to revisit.
A warm flood surrounded my fingers almost immediately when I released the clamps and the sharp sting hit her.
While Cheryl was making up her mind whether she liked this or not, her cunt had already made the decision for her.
I added a finger. When she came, it was suprisingly quiet... almost restrained.
Even better, she still had her knickers on, just about. The evening was starting out nicely.