I rush down the sidewalk to the restaurant where you instructed me to meet you at 5 o'clock sharp. I am already a few minutes late and know you will not be pleased to have been kept waiting. My 5 inch heals and short skirt are flattering, but not made for running.
I finally reach the front doors of the restaurant and glance at my watch to see that I am ten minutes late. I approach the hostess stand and tell her that I am meeting you and she immediately escorts me to your table.
You are looking at the menu and don't look up. I'm in trouble, have displeased you.
"Sit down and slide you panties off under your skirt and hand them to me," You tell me as I seat myself next to you.
I look up quickly to see that the hostess has heard your words. Appearing shocked, she rushes away from the table.
I flush a bright shade of pink, but don't dare disobey you. I try to inconspicuously shimmy my panties down my thighs without having to raise my skirt too much and bring attention to myself from the other diners.
I reach under the table to untangle my red lace thong from my high heals where they have become stuck. Finally, I bring them to my lap and then place them in your outstretched hand. You don't try to hide them or be discreet. You take them, hold them to your face and smell my arousal. They are damp already from anticipation. You then slide them into your pocket.
The waiter approaches the table and you order wine while sliding your hand up my thigh and under my skirt. You give nothing away to the waiter as you order, but your hand continues its journey to my smooth, waiting pussy.
I try not to give anything away, but a small gasp escapes my lips and a second blush creeps over my skin. As the waiter leaves the table you run your finger through my wet slit making me shudder with need for you.
"Whose pussy is this," You ask me.
"Yours," I reply with my head bowed.
"Then why did you keep me waiting for it?" You ask me sternly.
"I am sorry," I tell you, but do not make excuses for my tardiness. I know you don't want to hear them.
"Come here, my little bitch," You command me.
I scoot closer to you on the seat and you look me in the eyes for the first time since I came into the restaurant. You raise your fingers to my lips and I know immediately what you want me to do.