The Wilkerson Institute

Along about nine, I decided enough was enough and crawled to the bathroom. A long hot shower woke me enough to know I REALLY wanted to go back to bed. Candy got up too, and offered to scrub my back, but I politely turned her down with the comment that pilots really don't like guys in wheelchairs on their planes. She giggled and reached for my limp dick, but I twisted away. She went back to bed. By the time I was shaved and presentable, she was snoring gently.

Silently, I dressed and packed my remaining things up. I dragged my bags out the front door and quietly closed it behind me. I looked around and was startled to see Jeanine pushing a small luggage cart down the hall in my direction. "My savior!," I cried. She just laughed and tossed my bags on the cart. Together we rode down the elevator.

In the lobby, she placed my bags near the door, to await the arrival of the car. Then she waved and said, "Good-bye and take care." But I couldn't let this pearl beyond price go just yet.

Wilson and Wilkerson had both warned me not to tip the girls. Improperly handled, it would certainly imply they were whores, or worse, which they most certainly were not! At the least, it would be insulting. But I couldn't let this girl go without something. Taking her by the arm, I led her to a secluded nook.

"Listen, honey, you've been great, just fantastic! I've stayed in four star hotels and received a lot worse room service. Now I know the guests aren't supposed to tip, but I just have to..."

Jeanine looked shocked and grabbed my wrist as it snaked towards my wallet. "I can't! We can't! It wouldn't be..."

"Sshhh," I said, placing my free forefinger on her lips. "Now listen. If I was in any other hotel in the world and received the kind and quality of service you provided, I'd leave you a big tip. Or feel like an absolute heel. Now you don't want me to feel like a heel, do you?" I continued on before she could answer. "Understand, this is only for the room service, the towels, the cleaning, taking care of my bags, and so forth. This is not for the extracurricular activities, which were priceless in themselves." I pulled out my wallet and fished out a couple of C-notes. I took her hands and stuffed them in, balling up her fingers around them. "Now I want you to take this and buy yourself something, I don't care what, but buy yourself something nice. Okay?"

She weakly tried to push them back but I was firm. Eventually she smiled and nodded. Looking around slyly, she lifted her skirt and stuffed the bills in the top of one stocking, giving me a long last look at those trim blonde curls. She held the skirt up after she had tucked away the cash and winked at me and did a small bump and grind at me. Grinning, she asked, "Sure you don't want another one of those extracurricular activities? You know, one for the road?"

Oh so tempting! But I was still too pooped to pop. I settled for a long kiss, tucking her skirt down with my hands before taking her in my arms. She melted into me, her tongue darting out to caress my lips, then I pushed her away. She waved good-bye, then sashayed along. I didn't think it would be long before she found some more of what I had aroused.

I collapsed in an armchair near the door to await for Elyse and the limo. A waitress came up and asked if I wanted some coffee.

"Yes, please. And some Danish if you have any?" But by the time she came back, I was asleep. It was still waiting for me, cooling, when Elyse nudged me awake.

She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. "Morning!," she said brightly. "Our stuff is loaded, and we'd better get going." I followed her out the doors, waving good-bye to the staff at the front desk. Once inside the car I immediately fell asleep again.

Now I felt much better, still tired but not like death warmed over. Our driver, a leggy brunette, headed to the rear of the car as I helped Elyse out, and began pulling our bags from the trunk. I waved over a Red Cap, or the Mexican equivalent, anyway, who loaded them on a cart. I grabbed my carry-on bag, and Elyse grabbed one for herself. But I was surprised when the porter only loaded my three suitcases on his cart. Where was Elyse's?

"Wait a minute! Where's your bags?," I asked Elyse. I figured it must have been left at the lodge and we'd have to go back for it.

"Right here," she announced.

I stared. "That's it? You're only taking one bag?," I asked incredulously. Both of my exes had needed their own tractor-trailers when traveling!

"Yep. This is it."

"But..."

"Come on! I'll explain inside. We're early and you look like you could do with some lunch."

She was right. I hadn't had any breakfast and it was past lunchtime. As if to show agreement with her, my stomach growled loudly. "Okay. TWA," I told the porter. He led the way into the airport.

We confirmed our tickets and turned over my three bags. Then, still carrying our remaining luggage, we headed back to the main concourse and found a restaurant. I wanted some simple food with lots of grease and salt, and we were soon wolfing down burgers and fries. From what I've seen, McDonald's is what made the world smaller. I've gotten burgers on six continents.

My hunger assuaged, I repeated my earlier question. "Only one bag?"

"I've got everything I need in here."

"Impossible."

She looked thoughtful for a second, then began ticking items off on her fingers. "Let's see. Bath kit, makeup, two pair stockings, two pair shoes, jeans, blouse, handbag with my cash and birth certificate... ooh, I should get that out." She began to fumble open the bag and pulled out a small leather bag. Then, riffling through the bag, she continued. "A few knick-knacks, some hankies, a nightie...you'll like that," she said wickedly. "A bra and panties. That's it."

Well, she did have the bare minimums covered. "What about other clothes? Stuff from your dorm room. I've never, ever, seen a women able to travel on one bag!"

"The girls are sending a couple of boxes UPS. Mr. Wilkerson says never trust the mail or the airlines. We all are trained to travel light."

"I guess so!," I said. Wow! A girl after my own heart. The only reason I had three bags was my detour home from Germany. "But clothes?"

"Sometime this week I'm going to need to go shopping, so pencil it in your schedule."

"And in the meantime? You going to wear that suit around the house?" For the first time I noticed Elyse's outfit. She was wearing a tan jacket and matching wrap skirt, knee length, with a ruffled blouse peeking out from the jacket. Tan suede high heeled pumps and sheer stockings. Very chic, especially in comparison with my standard travel outfit of khakis, flannel shirt and leather jacket. I've traveled enough to know what I'm most comfortable in during long airport delays.

"Well, maybe I just won't wear anything. Would you mind?," she asked. Her smile indicated she already knew my answer.

Which I didn't have to give. There were no delays today, and just then the PA system announced our flight. We stood and headed back to our gate. We arrived just as they started boarding passengers and went right aboard, settling into our first class seats. Somehow Wilkerson had arranged side by side seats, even though my incoming ticket had been for a single.

We ensconced ourselves in our seats and found we were almost the only passengers in first class, the exceptions being a preppy looking young couple across the aisle and two rows forward. Muffy and Chip promptly put on headphones and ignored us. I turned to Elyse and continued with our conversation. "That's a really nice suit."

"Thank you. I had figured you to wear your suit, and wanted to look good for you," she said. "Besides, you flew in wearing a suit."

Christ, the grapevine these girls had! "Only because I was flying in from Bonn, where I had business. This is what I normally fly in. It's comfortable and you can't tell when it's wrinkled. Jesus, the CIA should recruit you girls as spies!"

"The Great Oz knows all," she intoned. "Besides, Jeanine is my, was my roommate."

"Your roommate!" No wonder she knew everything about me!

"Uh, huh. She says 'Thanks' for the bucks."

Jesus! What else did she know about my last night? "When did you see Jeanine?"

"This morning after you left your room. We went to the suite to check if I had left anything there. Candy says 'Hi', too. And she also says 'Thanks'." I just groaned and rolled my eyes upwards, praying to die right then and there. Elyse just giggled and laughed at my discomfiture, adding to it by saying, "She told us everything. Everything! How you abused and punished her all night long. Jeanine and I didn't think you had it in you!"

Shit! I sunk down into the seat and prayed the stewardess would come by with drinks. Or cyanide.

But she didn't. Instead she stood at the front of the cabin, demonstrating the seat belts and oxygen masks as we taxied for takeoff. Thankfully, Elyse shut up and faced forward to watch and listen to the announcements.

Once airborne, she loosened her belt and turned to face me again. But I spoke first, to change the subject. "I still can't believe you only brought a single bag to move with. What about other clothes? Are they shipping them, too?"

"No, not really. Most of what we wear belongs to the Institute. Like my fancy dresses. Besides, I should be getting what you want me to wear. What are your preferences?"

"Huh? What's wrong with what you're wearing now? Stuff like that, I suppose."

She just shook her head and gave me a 'Men!' look. "You're no help." She crossed her legs, pointing a pump at me and showing a nice bit of leg, to boot. "Let's take this step by step." She wiggled her shoe at me. "High heels or low heels?"

"High. Definitely. The higher the better."

"Okay. Stockings or pantyhose?"

"Stockings. Again, definitely." This was getting interesting!

"I thought so, but had to be sure. Garter length or thigh high?," she asked.

"Thigh high. I like them real long, right up to, well, you know."

"Oh. You see? I needed to know that. Today I wore garter length. See?" She pulled the skirt apart briefly to expose the top of a stocking about mid thigh, then smoothed the skirt back into place. I was tempted to move it out of the way again, but the stewardess was passing through.

"Next. Skirts or pants?"

"Skirts. You got a great set of wheels, kid, and I want to see them. Short skirts or slits or wraps or button fronts. Whatever. Same with dresses."

"I suspected as much," she said dryly. "What about my underwear? What type do you like?"

"The nonexistent type," I replied, laughing.

"Robert, you are hopeless!" She laughed at me. "Seriously! I can't run around all the time without underwear. I mean, I need a bra. At least when we're out in public."

"Why? You're not wearing one now."

"I most certainly am! If I start bouncing, I'll give myself black eyes," she protested.

"You've got a bra on now? I don't believe it." She had swayed delightfully walking onto the plane.

In response, Elyse glanced around the cabin. Seeing nobody likely to see, she unbuttoned her jacket and opened it up, twisting to face me. The ruffles and cuffs were just about the only opaque part of the blouse, the rest was as sheer and transparent as one of her nightgowns. Her ample bosom was lifted by a lacy white half bra which cupped and exposed her breasts, right down to the dark red nipples pointing at me. I was impressed! She turned back towards the front and buttoned up again.

"Very nice!," I commented. "Do your panties match?"

"I'm not wearing any. But my garter belt does," she whispered.

I slid my hand into her lap and up through the opening in the front of her skirt. She inhaled in surprise as I found her crotch, bald and naked to my touch. No panties! I gave her a couple of fast flicks with my fingers across her clit, then smoothly pulled my hand out as the stewardess rolled a cart in our direction. Elyse rearranged her skirt discreetly, giving no sign of my actions. Except for the flushed look on her face.

"Look," I said. "Let me make this a bit simpler. I wasn't planning on a dress code, for either of us. You need to wear underwear, okay, do so. I do ask that if you wear a bra, that in unhooks on the same side as the blouse or dress does. I mean, a button front dress should have a front hook bra, and vice versa. And if you want to wear pants once in awhile, it's no big deal. There is no uniform. Got it?"

"Yes, but..."

"Listen, if I haven't told you this before, I think you are incredibly beautiful. You are absolutely gorgeous. And I want you to wear outfits that let me see you. That showcase your legs, your waist, you bustline, your skin, your face. That make you look sexy and make me want you. That's how I want you to dress. Understand? No rules."

Elyse leaned over the armrest and kissed me lightly. "And have I told you how sweet you are?"

I snorted in response.

"Do you prefer classy, flashy, or trashy?," she asked.

"Jesus! More questions! All of the above! Use your judgment!," I said, exasperatedly.

"Well, excuse me!," she protested. "I'm just trying to learn what you like."

We sat in silence about five minutes. Then I turned back to her. "I'm sorry if I was short with you."

"No, I'm sorry I was pestering you," she responded.

"You weren't. Let me explain." I gathered my thoughts together. "My first wife didn't want to dress for my tastes. Her standard mode of dress was baggy jeans, a tee shirt, sneakers and socks, and industrial strength underwear. Unless we were going out, she never, ever, wore a dress or a skirt. She never wore stockings, just steel lined pantyhose. No lace anywhere. No high heels."

"Never?"

"Nope. Same at night. She always wore these Godawful ugly flannel nightgowns! Absolutely no sense of sex appeal at all."

"I thought you said she'd wear stuff if you asked?," said Elyse, remembering our conversation yesterday.

"Not precisely. She'd change into something if I literally laid it out for her, underwear and all. I mean, there we were, both pushing thirty, and I had to tell her how to dress! It was ludicrous! And even then she wouldn't get it right. She'd whine and complain about the stockings and high heels, and half the time refuse to wear them. And if she did wear a nightgown to bed, right after sex she'd change into her flannel contraptions again. She'd certainly never wear a nightie around the place."

"Wow! How anal retentive!," commented Elyse. "Oops, sorry about that."

I waved it off. She was right, my judgment sucked. My only excuse was I had loved Janie at the time. "No, you're right."

"But I thought you said she enjoyed sex. It sure doesn't sound it."

"That's the weird part. I mean, she did enjoy sex. Or at least put on one hellacious show for eight years. She made all the right responses and noises and whatnot. At least during the actual fun and games. But it was like it was more trouble than it was worth to her. So she never went out of her way to make it happen. If I wanted to, she was willing to cooperate, but otherwise, forget it. Once, just as an experiment, I stopped screwing her. Just cut it out. Didn't reach over in bed or nothing. I held out for six weeks before I started going nuts and reached over one night. And it was like nothing had changed. Weird." I shook my head in non-understanding.

"Yeah, weird," said Elyse with a shocked look on her face. She reached over and took my hand and gave it a squeeze. "Look at me," she said. I looked up and over. Her eyes seemed moist but her voice was low and clear. "I promise you, we won't have problems like that, ever. I really like you, both in and out of bed. And I enjoy making love, both in and out of bed. The last few days have been heavenly. But if you ever have a problem with me, you let me know, you here? I don't want to be a problem, ever."

I was silent, but moved. I squeezed her hand back and lifted it to my lips, kissing it. Her eyes welled up again and she turned her head to the window. She fumbled in her purse for a tissue and wiped her eyes. Composed, she turned to face me with an evil gleam in her now bright eyes.

"Ever done it on an airplane?," she asked.

Christ on a crutch! "Here!? Now!?," I exclaimed.

"Well, no. But how about in the restroom?," she said pointing forward.

I looked around and shook my head, no. "I don't think so, honey. It's the middle of the day and the restrooms are in front of us. The only way to pull that off is at night in coach, where the cans are to the rear of the plane. Never done it on a plane, but I did it on a train in college once." I grinned back.

"Oh, shoot. I wanted to join the Mile High Club," she whispered to me.

"Another time, I promise. In the States, I normally fly on the company plane. I'll take you on a business trip, I swear."

Elyse sank back into her cushions and giggled. "Goody. But I still want a little something now. Here..." She pushed the armrest up and back, then rearranged her skirt. It gaped wide and she spread her legs apart. Taking my hand, she put it in her lap. "Come on! Do my clit! Please?"

So much for my vow to keep my pants on in public! Feeling dreadfully sinful, I stuffed my hand in her crotch and began probing the folds of supple moist flesh. Elyse undid her jacket again and her chest heaved with the thrills I was imparting. I got her off twice with clitplay, Elyse whimpering through clenched teeth, biting her lip to stifle her low moans. When the hostess came through, I reluctantly removed my dripping fingers and Elyse redid her outfit.

"Thanks, honey. Now it's your turn," said Elyse. She reached over and began to fumble with my pants.

Christ! "Wait a bit," I told her. I undid my seat belt and stood. Earlier, when I put our bags in the overhead, I had noticed a blanket and some pillows in there. I pulled the blanket down and shut the door quietly. Sitting back down, I spread the blanket out over our laps. Elyse giggled and reached under the blanket. My last thoughts were that this was going to land us both in trouble, then my mind blanked out as those cool fingers reached in and wrapped around my joint. Nervously, I looked around. Muffy and Chip were still oblivious to the rest of us. With another giggle, Elyse slid down in her seat and laid her head in my lap. I pulled the blanket over her head.

Sheer bliss! Her lips teasingly nibbled at my cockhead as her tongue licked around the tip and her fingers stroked me lightly. Her head lowered in my lap, my dick going deeper and deeper into her mouth, until it was finally buried to the hilt, her nose in my pubic hair. She began a gentle deep throat motion and I rested my hands on the back of her head encouragingly.

"Damn!," I whispered.

"Ummmph?," replied Elyse, her mouth full. I held her head still as our doom approached.

"Is there a problem, sir? Ohh!" The stewardess must have seen me take out the blanket and had come down the aisle to see if she could help.

"No, no! My, uh, wife was feeling, uh, sick. She thought she should lie down," I said weakly. I pulled the blanket up further. Elyse held still as my dick wilted between her teeth.

"Really," she said dryly.

"Er, yes. She was feeling chilly." My throat was as dry as the desert. "Malaria, maybe?" Shit, this was just going from bad to worse!

"Right," she said sarcastically. "Let's just hope she gets the cure soon, huh?" She walked back to the galley, shaking her head.

Elyse's head popped out of the blanket. "Malaria, Robert?"

"Shit." I reached down to zip up my pants.

"But I'm not cured yet," said Elyse. She put her face back in my crotch. Oh, God! What now?

Elyse began to really work my dick over. In no time at all, she had it stiff again and deep between her teeth. Somehow my sense of urgency translated to her. In short order she had stuffed a hand further in my pants and began massaging my balls. My relief was multileveled when I exploded onto her tonsils. I hurriedly fastened my britches as Elyse sat upright again, licking her lips sensuously.