I arrive at the café late, but this is planned. Ten minutes, almost exactly – I've been waiting, browsing in a bookshop down the road, calculating how long it would take to get you anxious, tense, in suspense. Yes, ten minutes ought to do nicely.
It's a gorgeous bright, hot sunny day, the heat beating down onto the pavement from the clear blue sky. I'm wearing my sunglasses and you're looking in the other direction, tapping your foot nervously, as I arrive by the outside table of the café. I slip into the seat next to you and you jump in surprise then look at me, relieved.
"You're late," you say, nervously.
"Is that a problem?"
"No... No of course not."
"Good."
You're wearing a low-cut red dress that comes high up your legs, which are crossed very carefully.
"You're dressed as I instructed?" I ask quietly.
You look down at the table, a little embarrassed.
"Well?"
"Yes."
"Good."
I move my chair closer to sit directly next to you, the metal legs scraping across the pavement. I see you wince slightly, not wanting the least bit of attention to be drawn to us. You don't know what's going to happen, but you have a rough idea of what sort of thing it might be, and it makes you nervous. But excited, oh yes, I can tell...
"Uncross your legs," I instruct you simply. You don't look at me, continuing to look down at the table instead, but after a few moments you do as I ask.
"Wider," I say quietly. You part your legs a little more, creating an inviting gap between your knees.
"What if someone can see?" you ask nervously.
I shrug.
"Then they enjoy the view." I grin.
"I can't believe you're making me do this..."
"You can get up and walk away any time..."
"I know."
You stay right where you are. I beckon a waitress over.
"Can I help?" she asks, smiling.
"Yes, I'll have a coke thanks," I tell her, smiling. "Molly?"
You're so nervous and excited you can hardly think of the name of a drink, and the situation probably isn't helped when you suddenly feel, under the table, the touch of my hand on the inside of your thigh, gently brushing upwards towards your unprotected, sensitive spot...
"Um... er..."
"Shall I come back in a minute?"
"No, come on Molly, make your mind up!" I laugh.
"I'll have..." You jump suddenly in your seat as my fingers reach between your legs, where as I had instructed you are wearing no panties. I gently stroke you with two fingers, and a small gasp escapes your lips.
"A coke for me too thanks," you blurt desperately. The waitress smiles and walks off. I stop stroking you for a moment, but keep my hand where it is.
"Please, don't..." You ask desperately.
"Are you telling me what to do?" I ask viciously. "If so, I don't think that's a good idea."
"No, I'm not, I'm sorry, but... I mean please, this is a public place... People could see, we could get into trouble!"
I look across the road opposite us. Cars are passing by, people are walking along the streets, people in the shop opposite are going about their usual business. Nobody cares that you and I are sitting together at that table, with my hand surreptitiously planted up your skirt...
"You don't want this?" I ask teasingly, stroking you more quickly and pushing a little harder, working you slowly harder and faster with my two fingers. You close your eyes and lean your head back a fraction, sighing deeply.
"Yes... Yes I do..." you confess.
"How much."
"More than anything..."
The waitress returns with two ice-cold glasses of cokes and I pay her, even breaking out of my usual character to give her a tip.
"I wouldn't mind holding that down and spanking it," I note mockingly, whispering into your ear. I see you look at her jealously as she walks off, but before you can say anything I suddenly make a new effort and bring you right to the edge. You suppress a slight squeal of pleasure before I ease off, working my hand back down your leg a little but keeping it under your skirt.
I take a sip of my drink, and you do the same.
"Please..." you whisper again, but I can't tell if you mean please stop of please push you over. I think it's a mixture of both, and I start stroking you again, gently, lightly, keeping you nicely simmering.
You say nothing, you simply try desperately not to show any outward sign of your increasing arousal and desperation, your eyes darting around fearfully, constantly worrying that at any moment somebody will spot what's happening and say something. All the time I gradually increase my pace and I feel you shift forward on your chair, trying to force my fingers harder and deeper into you, to finish you off.
"Ah-ah," I whisper, giving your ear a quick lick for the sake of it as I do so. A man sitting in his car waiting for the traffic lights to change glances across at our table, looks down, looks at me, smiles knowingly and winks. He drives off.
"How long shall we stay here?" I ask casually, well aware that you're teetering on the edge of orgasm again, but working my fingers expertly to keep you balancing delicately on that edge and not going over.
"I..." you can barely speak, lost in that semi-dream world of arousal and desire. You moan softly and half-close your eyes, snapping them open as you realise you're becoming too conspicuous.
"Would you like to finish?"
You nod vigorously.
All this time, my other hand has been wrapped tightly around my ice-cold glass of coke. Suddenly and swiftly I remove my hand from between your legs and just as quickly put my other hand there. You feel my freezing fingers press into you and you jolt violently in your seat, gasping. I remove the hand; several people are looking at us, attracted by your sudden exclamation – you do your best to look as if nothing has happened, but in your eyes I can see your crushing disappointment at being brought slamming back down to Earth. I smile happily and finish my drink.
"There's a public toilet just over there," I say, pointing. I hand you a small plastic bag I brought with me that I had placed under my chair. "Go in there and put these on."
You take the bag and walk off in the direction of the toilet, knowing better than to say anything or ask any questions, walk off toward the toilets. I chuckle to myself at the thought of your face when you find what I've given you, and wonder whether you'll actually do as I ask. I am actually quite impressed when, a few minutes later, I see you walking back across towards the table, stepping very gingerly, your face grimacing in pain at every movement. You sit back down carefully, wincing, and shoot me your best 'I can't believe you're doing this to me!' look.
"How does it feel?" I ask.
"Horrible," you say.
"I knew you'd like it," I reply with a grin.
The previous evening when I visited you at your hotel, while you'd been in the bathroom I'd taken the opportunity of stealing a pair of your bra and panties. Back home, I'd super-glued into the crotch of the panties and the cups of the bra some very coarse pieces of sandpaper – glass paper, I believe you Americans call it. This, of course, was what I had handed you to put on and what you are very commendably now wearing and suffering from.
"Come on!" I say, standing up quickly. "We're going for a walk."
A look of horror comes across your face.
"I don't think I can take too much of this!" you plead.
"And...?"
"I'll be rubbed raw!"
I give you a look, and you moodily get to your feet. I start walking quickly down the street, and you do your best to keep up, every step becoming increasingly painful.
"You'll pay for this tomorrow when I'm on top..." you say meaningfully.
"That's what I'm hoping for," I reply, feeling a momentary stab of excitement at the thought of what agonies your revenge might inflict upon me. But I push the thoughts to the back of my mind – there's still so much to be done today.
"I know it must be difficult for you," I say as we walk. "So I'm going to give you a chance to get out of your underwear pretty quickly. All you have to do is pass a little test I have in mind. Quite simply really, just carry out a few instructions..."
Perhaps you can tell from my wicked smile that this is not going to be plain sailing. I stop outside the bookshop I was in before, and you stop too.
"What do I have to do?" you ask.
"Well, we've done the teasing, and the pain..."
"Seems like we're still on the pain..."
"Yes, well, anyway, now the humiliation!"
There is a quick look of excitement and horror on your face, overcome with sheer curiosity.
