I was already sitting at a booth. It was late during the middle of the week. Cindy didn’t get off from her job as a store manager at a women’s clothing store until eleven. The bar closed at twelve. It was eleven thirty when I saw Cindy walk through the door. The place was empty. I motioned for her to come over and got up.
“Sit down Cindy, I want to talk to you.”
She scooted into the booth and I slid in next to her.
“Sorry it took so long. My boss wanted to talk to everyone in the store.”
“Never mind. We have time. I just wanted to know what is wrong with you?”
“What do you mean?”
Her voice sounded defensive, a little nervous.
“Never mind, maybe you have lost interest. It is okay, there are plenty like you.”
“Stop it. Tell me what you mean.”
“Don’t take that tone with me Cindy. You are already in dutch with me.”
“Please tell me what you mean. I don’t understand.”
“You see, there you go again, pretending. We both know how you are. You are starting to pretend I don’t know, pretending we don’t know. If you want to see me you have to stop pretending. Do you want to see me?”
Cindy’s mouth became dry. She tried to swallow but she couldn’t. She knew what I meant. Just the thought of it caused her to tingle between her legs, caused her to feel the excitement in the pit of her stomach. It scared her to feel this way, to react this way. I liked to make her a little uncomfortable. She liked it too, but like so many things she couldn’t admit it.
“Yes I want to keep seeing you,” she said in low voice, her head hung low in shame.
“Move over close to me. Let me see if you mean it.”
The place was empty now except for the bartender at the cash register. I noticed she was watching our table, probably wishing we would hurry and let her close. Cindy scooted next to me, her thigh against mine in the booth. I slid my hand up her leg over her hose and under her skirt. She moved uneasily, raising her ass so slightly so the skirt would allow me access to her cunt.
“Dammit Cindy, what have I told you about panty hose. You should know better than that by now.” My voice was stern and angry.
I was even more pissed now. I hate panty hose. Cindy had the soul of a true nympho, at least once you got her warmed up. Once aroused, she lost all control and inhibition, however like most women she had trouble reconciling what she thought she was supposed to be and what she really was. But what I liked most is that once aroused she turned into a real slut, craving sensations both physical and mental that would send most people running. I had broken down most of her defenses and exposed that part of her. That was what she needed, someone who would give her that. She had never really had a skilled lover before. No one except her stepfather when she was a teenager. He had been the only man who ever made her cum, until me. She told me that once. We were just getting to know one another. I think she thought she wanted me to feel sorry for her, but I knew better. She liked the way he made her feel and she wanted that again. I knew what she really wanted. It was our unspoken secret. When you know a woman like that she will do anything for you. She was still young, only in her twenties. She had left home to go to school, but she told me the boys in school didn’t give her what she really needed. I was forty-one myself and I intended to see how far I could push her.
“I am sorry, but I was at work. I wouldn’t feel comfortable in a garter belt and stockings and we have to wear hose. It is part of the dress code.”
She was whining, upset that I found out. I could tell she was afraid, afraid of what I might do. She was right too. I would punish her. She knew I would. She just didn’t know how.
“Go to the restroom and pull those damn things off and get back here quick,” I snapped.
