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The Meeting It’s been nearly 9 years since I had this amazing experience, yet I’ve never been able to talk about it. Well, I shouldn’t say I wasn’t able to speak of it, since there wasn’t anything physically stopping me from doing so. It was a much stronger power than anything physical as it was my word. I had given my word that I would not speak of this for many years. So now that almost a decade has passed since the events that this story shall tell, I feel I have kept my part of the bargain. Still, I will not disclose any personal information about the people or persons involved as that would be a violation of a sacred trust. So, now I can begin to share with you what happened to me and do not be afraid to disbelieve what you are about to read. I lived it and I still do not believe it myself. I was online as I often was in those days, spending time on AOL and enjoying the speed of my new 56K modem. Wow, those things really are fast. I mean, would we ever need more speed than that? I highly doubted it. In-between browsing over the several newsgroups I enjoyed reading, and looking through my vast number of .wav files, I was also waiting to speak with Surchgirl. OK, relax, that was not her real handle, as I’ve said, I need to protect identities here. She was someone who I began speaking with about four months prior and what had gotten off to a slow start had developed into a nice friendship, which was based in a mutual interest of spanking. It all began with an email she had sent to me, telling me that she had read a bunch of my posts at several spanking groups and also on Compu-Serve and she thought that my words and emotions were from someone who truly had an interest in spanking. She said she had spoken to others, but many of them wanted to spank her in exchange for a sexual favor and that I was one of the few who actually seemed more interested in spanking her and making her first spanking an enjoyable experience. She was 100% correct about that, because as any true spankophile will tell you, the spanking is the cake and anything else would simply be the icing. Our discussions went from one aspect of spanking to another. We spoke of childhood experiences with it and also of fantasies and expectations. There was something about her that had me transfixed and I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I would get home from work, sign on to AOL and hope she would be there. Quite often I was disappointed, as she didn’t spend nearly as much time online as I did. I quickly surmised this was due to the fact that she had a life and I really needed to get one! But once an online junkie always an online junkie, so when she wasn’t around, I found other things to do and always kept checking my IM screen to see if perhaps she was there. She had said a few things that really intrigued me and made me realize that I was speaking with someone who was living the kind of life I might only dream of. Someone who traveled the world, who had lots of friends, and of course, much responsibility. She would sometimes send me photos of pictures she had taken during visits to other countries and other times she would tell me interesting stories about her journey’s. All of this was of course encompassed by our interest in spanking. She had told me how she wanted to dress up like a schoolgirl and be punished. She hinted that her personal life demanded that she be discreet so she could not be marked up. I figured that meant I could not use my favorite implement, the hairbrush, but really there was no immediate plans for us to ever meet. She resided thousands of miles away, and in fact often wasn’t even in the USA. She once sent me a picture of her bottom, after my begging and pleading with her to do so for about two months! When I got the picture in email, my first thought was, she is so full of it. This must be a photo she found somewhere of a professional model or actress. No way this is really a picture of her. It was the first time I had ever felt any negative vibes from talking with her, and now our chats had been ongoing for about a year. I thought of challenging her to send another photo but decided not to push it. After all, we weren’t meeting so even if she was lying, perhaps it was only a white lie, a photo to help sell the fantasy that her physical appearance was as blessed as that marvelous brain that resided inside her head. Yes, she was so very special and I knew she was much younger than myself, so I couldn’t be in love with her, but I certainly might have been in awe. The next night, she sent me an IM and spoke, for the first time, about the real possibility of meeting. She told me she was going to be in New York in two months and wanted to know if I’d be up for a meeting. When I said I’d love to meet her and have dinner or lunch, she said, yes, but she also meant to meet and play. She told me she felt very comfortable with me and added she’d only be in NY for a short time. I felt honored that this person trusted me enough to meet me and to even suggest we play on that first date. I told her that I was fine with having dinner and then going to my place, or to any place she wanted to play. So for the next two months we continued as usual. Talking, sharing and enjoying the time we spent online. Then things got a bit spooky. About a month prior to our meeting, I suggested, as I always do when a real life encounter is agreed upon, to us chatting on the phone. This idea was met with total rejection. She made up every excuse not to talk on the phone. The reasons sometimes sounded reasonable, sometimes sounded like a stretch, and often sounded like total bull, but what was I to do? Demand a phone call? If we were going to meet, that was the main thing and I would not continue to push for a phone call. Still, it did creep me out a bit and I worried if maybe this “she,” was a “he.” I could not figure another reason why a phone call seemed to be too much for a person who seemed to have her entire life together like nobody else I had ever spoken to. Just what was she hiding? I couldn’t figure it out, but I knew she was hiding something. I just hoped that when I found out what it was, I wouldn’t be in any kind of situation that was best avoided by making a phone call a mandatory event prior to our meeting. Finally, I changed my mind and told her we had to speak on the phone or else I wouldn’t meet her. She tried again to give me reasons why she would not be able to talk on the phone but then, finally, when she saw I was not going to allow her to talk her way out of it, she agreed. She said she would call me the next night. The phone rang and when I answered it, her voice greeted me. I thought she had a nice voice but nothing special. I guess I had expected so much, nothing short of perfection that when her voice sounded ordinary, I was kind of let down. The conversation was short as she said she had a lot going on and couldn’t talk, but I was glad just to know she was who she said she was. I would later find out, this was not to be the case. The weeks leading up to our meeting dragged on for what seemed like a year. I couldn’t wait to see what this person looked like. Was that photo really of her, or will I meet an overweight woman who only knew how to talk a good game? Now this is not to put down overweight people, but I have a problem with anyone who considers meeting me and lies about what they look like. I had played with many different women, all with different physical attributes and some of them were thin, some were of average build and some were obese. The main thing to me was, be honest and also have a true interest in spanking. Finally, the day had arrived and I nervously dressed and got into my car for the drive to the city. She had asked me to meet her at the Marriott Marquis in the restaurant “The View.” She told me how she’d be dressed and said I would also know her since she’d be seated at a table with a hairbrush. That made me laugh. When I got there, I was taken to a table and seated. She had told me to also ask for her by name, “Amy,” so that was what I did. The table they took me to was empty, however, there was a pink hairbrush on it. I sat down and waited. No sign of her just yet. My heart pounded in my chest. She must have been there since the brush was right there in plain sight. Perhaps she was as nervous as I was and maybe she was in the bathroom peeing. That thought made me laugh. My laughter stopped when a well-dressed gentleman approached and sat down. I didn’t wait for him to speak. I stood up and went off on him, saying I knew there was a reason he didn’t want to call me and now it call came out. I didn’t stop to ask him whom he got to call me. It bothered me that anyone would actually go along with such a sick joke and to waste my time like this was just too much for me to handle. The man let me have my say and then he suggested that I sit down and let him explain. Since I didn’t want this entire trip to be a total waste of time, I decided to listen to what he wanted to say and then to get up, leave and perhaps avoid online chats for a while. His story was simple, the person on the phone wasn’t him, nor was it the woman in question. I really wanted to hit him now and not in a good way, if you know what I mean. I could have been home watching a good movie on TV or at a sporting event or maybe bowling. Anything would have been preferable to the circumstance I now found myself in. Still, I sat and let him spin his story but I thought ahead to how I would tell him off yet again. I never did. He explained that the only communication I had with his “employer” was on AOL through IMs. The reason I was now sitting at a table facing him was simply a matter of security. Now, she was not worried about meeting me. She was fine with that. This was about a matter of her privacy and she was in a room at this giant hotel and had been there for the past three days. The gentleman explained that this was the only way to prevent exposure that could perhaps do her damage as well as certainly put my life in the limelight and most people wish to remain private. He said, something like this would be much more than just a person’s 15 minutes of fame. He told me even he had no idea what this meeting was for. It was his job to see to her security and beyond that it was not his place to know anything more about her private life. His story was so fantastic that I had no choice but to believe it. He certainly understood my initial reaction to his sitting down at the table and he hoped his explanation of the circumstances helped me to understand why these measures had to be taken. I told him there were no hard feelings on my end and I appreciated that he had his own job to do. He told me he would now take me to her room but he asked me to wait for a few minutes and then he’d be back. When he returned, we both walked into the lobby and we squeezed into an elevator that seemed to be way too crowded. The elevator stopped at least five times and on each floor, two men would exit. This happened over and over and it slowly occurred to me that this had been set up to enhance security. When we got off on our floor, there was still another few floors pushed and it was clear we had not been followed. It felt like a grand adventure and then all of a sudden my imagination ran away with me. Was there someone in that room who would shoot me as I entered? Why all this secrecy? There had to be more to this than what I was told. Was it too late for me to turn back? Should I just run for the stairs and say, to hell with all of this, I am not going to enter a hotel room with this stranger, who appeared out of nowhere with this fantastic story? We arrived at Room 3206. He knocked on the door and said, “I will pick him back up in two hours miss.” Then he departed, using the stairs so as not to hang around even to wait for the elevator. Yep, privacy seemed to be pretty paramount around here. The door then swung opened and there she was. I stood there, not able to move, and not able to speak. I was always the calm one during these spanking date meetings. I was used to it and I could use my sense of humor to help most newbie’s relax and enjoy meeting with me. Here, I could not talk. My heart was racing. I felt like I might pass out. “I know you,” I said. “I’ve seen you in movies.” “Why, just last week I saw you on Letterman!” She was like a painting, only she was real and she was alive and I was there. I began to speak again, still standing at the entranceway to her room. She smiled at me and placed a finger over her lips. I smiled back. I walked into the room and she closed the door. The End
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