She sat at the table.
She had entered, scanning the patio, looking not only for a vaguely familiar face, but for where she should sit if she did not find him. And, secretly, she also looked for exits, though this thought she kept quiet even from herself. She didn't see him.
She reminded herself to stand tall, imagined a thread from the top of her head pulling her spine straight as she stood in her 3 inch heels. She was normally a creature of comfort, and she preferred to stand in the back and observe her usual uniform of jeans and a sweater. It suited her fine. But he liked shoes that gave her height, he said. He liked the ones that wrapped around her ankles. He liked skirts above the knee. He liked stockings and garter belts. There had been no question, then.... She would wear them. But she felt far too noticeable, as tastefully dressed as she might appear, she felt where the silk ended on her upper thigh (and the straps holding them) running up the front and back of her legs. They were constant, and her thoughts were always directed to that very place.... Her upper thighs, and the spot between them.
Her hair was down and swept gracefully from her face. Her blouse was tailored close to her body, and displayed only the very inside of her cleavage. This fact alone made her feel watched, though no one was truly watching. A furtive glance now and again, perhaps: the businessman looking up from his laptop, or the elder gentleman stealing a glance from across his coffee and newspaper. She looked comfortable to others. Inside her, though, was a maelstrom, and she feared it would overwhelm her.
They had been speaking for over a month, and in that time she found herself surrendering to him in more ways than she could count. Seeing him in person, though, was different. She feared meeting someone who knew so much about her that she kept hidden from the rest of the world, and of meeting someone who even had the vaguest clue about her vulnerabilities. She feared meeting someone who had the chance to exploit them, and silently said to herself "he will not; I'm here because I want to be. I don't need to be afraid." Oddly, most of all, she feared he would not find her attractive. She lived in a town where anything over a size 2 was considered grossly overweight, where 20 year olds sought out Botox injections, and where the most average haircut was at least going to set you back $80. She did not know what he would expect, and she desperately hoped he would find her pretty.
There were two tables available. One was in the corner. She could sit with her back to the wall and see him coming. This would give her some measure of control. There was one in a more secluded area, but the seating put her back to the door. She wanted the one in the corner. She knew that he would not want his back to the room; of this she was fairly certain. He had never said, but he was the sort.
She went and ordered tea, and requested that she get it in a real tea cup. She didn't want to meet him with a paper cup, though she could not articulate why. And then she chose the table she knew he would prefer. She sat down. Lazily stirred her tea, and attempted to get her heart to slow. She breathed, conscientiously. She tried not to look as if she was waiting.
She was painfully aware of every movement she made. Would she recognize him? Would she see him first? Maybe she would joke and take over the conversation.... It was her way. Maybe he wouldn't let her. Her teaspoon lazily hit the sides of her cup, making a sound like muffled wind chimes, and she lost herself in it. She sat up straight, stirred her tea, and waited with a tension that pervaded her entire self. "I should have brought a book.... I always have a book."
She should have known he would approach her from behind. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She took a breath. She glanced to her right, enough to see a man's hand laid familiarly on her person, and saw the cuff of his shirtsleeve as it brushed against his wrist. She couldn't look anywhere else.
"Sir?" she whispered. She didn't want anyone to hear. Perhaps she didn't even want him to hear. She felt his other hand come to her other shoulder, and she looked ahead, raising her chin a bit. She felt both hands squeeze lightly but firmly on her shoulders.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Elaine," said a voice that was both infinitely familiar, and yet so alien in person. She started to glance up and behind her, feeling slightly frantic; he squeezed her shoulders one last time and moved into view. He smiled at her. She could think of nothing to do but smile back. It was all she wanted to do.
"You have tea, I see. Wait here. I'll be back with some coffee." He grinned. He patted her hand. The gesture was welcomed, but struck her as foreign. Familiarity played havoc with her sense of what was before her. His voice was her Sir's voice, and she knew it well.. He touched her with a sense of intimacy. Why did she not know that his mouth moved a little to the side when he smiled sardonically? It was surprising, and delighted her secretly.
No. Now was not the time to think. But the idea of meeting a new person that you "know" stayed inside her head for awhile.
She watched him walk to the counter, and saw him order a simple coffee with some cream. He brought it back to the table, and sat next to her.... His back was to the wall, and he seemed pleased there.
"First of all," he said "you look lovely. Thank you for remembering that I liked shoes that buckle around your ankle." Elaine blushed and looked into her tea. "Thank you, Sir," she barely intoned. Her voice sounded odd to her. She was normally authoritative, and in control. For some reason, she wanted her voice to be sweet for him.... She wanted him, above all, to find her to be sweet. They smiled. And Elaine could not take the tension anymore.
"It's good to finally meet you", and she beamed him her brightest smile, and she laughed, inviting him to laugh with her. She inquired about traffic on the way over, leaned forward, and started asking the questions that had always plagued her. "Tell me more about your work?" "How is it that you spend your days...?" He humored her and let her have her time. He understood her need to simply meet him as himself. He knew her jokes were her way to give her space to get used to being with him in person. He enjoyed her vivaciousness, and could see why people felt comfortable around her. In turn she made him feel as if he were the most fascinating person she had ever met; she made him feel like he was meeting an old friend for the first time. It was easy to talk with her. But even as he engaged in easy conversation, he never forgot the most fundamental truth. He knew this girl. She was his. He had heard her cum. He had made her cum because he simply wanted her to, many times. And she was entirely in too much control.
The sun had set on their conversation. Traffic had died down, and the evening sounds of the city began. No crickets here, but music starting at a club down the boulevard. There was the steady hum of the heat lamps that were always turned on in LA when the temperature dared to hit below 65. The light became softer, and the air a bit more sultry, as the considerable town transitioned slowly into the next shift. Time had passed in the easy sort of way that leaves you wondering where it had gone.
They were still talking when Elaine realized her shirt had moved down further than she would have liked. She mindlessly reached to adjust, and felt his hand on hers, stopping her. "Leave it," he said. "I have been enjoying the view." She tried to laugh it off, wanted to get back to her most comfortable place of being hostess: engaging, but not sexual. "Elaine, I'm serious. Only I can see, and it makes me happy. Do not touch your blouse."
She retreated back into herself for a moment, eyes looking at the table. She did not touch her blouse. Her hands rested on the table. She breathed. Could she even look at this man? This was so much, so soon, and losing control of the situation quickly made her head spin. She had to be insane to have met him in person.
She felt a hand on her knee. His thumb rubbed lazily upon it, raising the skirt just a bit, touching her skin through the sheer barrier of silk.
"Pet," he said. And she felt like something wild that didn't know whether to run or stare straight into the light shining in her eyes. Hearing his secret endearment stilled her.
"Sir" she responded. Her heart took residence in her throat.
"We've spent several hours here. Do you find me attractive? Do you want to go on?"
"Yes Sir," she breathed quietly.
"You are mine, I am proud that you are mine, and while I have enjoyed this time I feel the need to remind you that you are mine. We do have to part ways this evening...."
Her heart sank....
"..... but not yet."
Why did she breathe a sigh of relief?
"I have parked in the far corner of the lot. We won't leave there. But if you want to go to the next step, I want you to go into the ladies room and remove your panties. If you hand them to me, then I know we continue."
Elaine looked at him, and into his eyes. This was reckless. She did not do things that were reckless. Her indecision showed clearly.
He moved his hand to her face, and she tried not to start away. "Shhh," he said.
His other hand came behind her head and pulled her as her lips parted in a gasp. "You will at least let me kiss you," he said, close to her mouth. "Yes Sir," she answered inaudibly.
With that, his lips came to hers, gentle, insistent. He tasted her lips, kissing the corners of her mouth, pulling her bottom lip into his and giving it a gentle nip. He tasted sweet, with the slight bitterness of dark coffee, and she let her tongue play gently against the opening of his mouth, savoring the flavor of him. He pulled her closer and with his hand pressed on her jaw. "Open" he said, and she did, and felt the texture of his tongue against hers as he took her mouth as he had wanted to all evening. His hand grabbed her hair at the back of her head and pulled gently. "Give me your tongue, pet." She did, and felt him suckle it, nip at it..... and she thought "this is his. I am his." He stroked her face. "Remove your panties, Elaine."
She started again, but she nodded, comforted by the hand cupping her face. She stood to get up, he stood with her, impressing her, and she went to the ladies room.
Once there, she undid the garters, removed her panties, and put everything back in place, feeling again the lines of the garter, but the absence of anything covering her pussy. She was amazed how wet she had become.....
She left the stall and looked in the mirror. "Can you do this Elaine?" "I can try." It was the only answer she had.
She went back to the patio, confident that people would know what she was about, hoping they did not, and she felt both excited and ashamed. She slipped her panties into his pocket. He moved his hand there and felt them, and he smiled at her.
"Oh Pet." Her knees wanted to buckle. "Let's go sit for awhile in the car."
She nodded her head almost imperceptibly. He was an attractive man, she told herself. She had engaged with men she knew less about and rarely thought on again. "But he knows more of me. There is part of me he owns," she thought. She did not feel simply trepidation. The realization terrified her.
