Hey

"Hey."

Catherine tried to ignore the interruption as she slowly took a sip of her macchiato and flipped to the next page of her book. Her mother's admonishment that 'hay' was for horses from so many years ago resurfaced in her memories for a moment before being chased away by the scene being painted by the words she was reading.

"You look really hot!"

Catherine sighed and glanced up to find a young man maybe in his early twenties with gray cargo shorts barley managing not to fall off of his hips, a baggy t shirt with a band logo she didn't recognize, and one side of his hair down to his shoulders while the other side had been shaved close to his scalp. He wasn't unattractive even with the gauges in his ears and studs in his nose and eyebrows and she rather liked his tall, slim figure, wide chest and muscular arms. Catherine let her eyes linger for another few moments before looking up directly into his eyes.

"I've been told that before," Catherine said simply, a fingertip marking the spot in her book.

The young man stood staring at Catherine, his eyes glancing down to her skirt occasionally while he waited for her to say more.

"You're in my light," Catherine finally added when it became obvious the young man wasn't going to move.

"You don't have to be so bitchy," they young man shot back.

Catherine sat her book down and looked up until she caught the young man's eyes again.

"I don't believe 'Hey' and 'You're bitchy' are really ideal ways to get your dick wet, do you?" she asked politely.

"You're the slut wearing the come fuck me now outfit!" the young man said angrily, "I'm just trying to do some old bitch a favor and give her some dick!"

Catherine smiled broadly and shifted her bare feet just enough to feel the rough, sun warmed concrete through her soles which just also happened to spread her legs just a little wider. She continued to stare at the young man while reaching a hand slowly down to lift the edge of her skirt just a little higher. Since the black leather fabric normally just barely covered her mound she didn't have to lift it to much so that she could press the tip of her index finger against her hood to caress the hard nub of her clit beneath the soft fold of skin.

"Why would you think I want dick?" Catherine asked while the tip of her finger circled the hard nub of her clit, "Especially tiny little dick that I couldn't even feel stretching me open?"

"Oh, so you're a fucking les..." the young man began before being suddenly cut off.

"Enough," a deep tenor voice cut in, "Take off."

Catherine glanced to the side to see a tall man with salt and pepper hair and a close shaved beard and mustache that showed more white than black walking between the tables of the outdoor caffe towards the young man. He was even taller than the young man with the weathered skin and wide muscular chest of someone who spent most of their time working outside. Tiny crows feet spread from the corner of his eyes as he glared at the young man who was openly glaring back.

The young man continued to glare at the newcomer for a moment and then glanced towards the waitress standing by the door to the café who had also been watching the exchange. With a final glare at the newcomer and a lingering glance at Catherine's finger still pressed against her hood the young man turned and stormed off without another word.

"I'm Peter," the man said as he walked towards Catherine.

"And white knights are just as annoying as little boys," Catherine replied.

"What?" Peter said while feigning confusion, "Oh, no, the little shit was blocking the only free table there was."

Catherine chanced a glance around the outdoor patio which was indeed full of midafternoon patrons except for the table he was standing next to before returning her attention on Peter.

"And he was blocking the view," Peter added with a grin as he sat down facing Catherine.

"Really," Catherine replied and moved her feet again to savor the rough, hot feel of concrete against her bare feet.

Peter smiled as Catherine's move spread her legs while he stared unabashed and sipped his coffee with a small half grin. Catherine took a sip of her own coffee and returned to her book, the occasional passerby on the sidewalk stumbling with a glance towards her, a boy who might... just barely have been old enough to buy a beer crossing the street to circle back for a slow stroll past for a second much longer look.

Summer was Catherine's favorite time of the year. The beautiful sun shining in a clear blue sky, the sun warmed pavement, the bite of a small rock against her bare feet, the heat that soaked into her body that she cherished while so many others bemoaned. A perfect time to wear the shortest minidresses she owned, the most sheer tops that did nothing to hide her pierced nipples and large, dark areolas.

A time for shocked glances, lingering stares, affronted glares, and the pleasure that all of those looks gave her.

The scene in the book was of that of the Princess bound and about to be punished, one of Catherine's favorite, dearest fantasies. A Princess hung along the side of a street from a signpost with her legs held wide apart, her punishment to have every stranger, every passerby see her humiliated, to reach out to touch her, caress and stroke her, dip a finger between the petals of her exposed flower, take a moment to toy with an exposed pearl before walking on.

So much better, more... entertaining than the vampires the author was so much more well known for.

Catherine could feel the petals of her own flower parting with arousal, could feel the caress of a slight breeze blow across her wet folds to kindle the slow burn that was spreading through her body.

She glanced up from her book to see Peter taking in the sight of her legs spread apart, Peter gazing raptly with that same half smile as he gazed deep inside of Catherine's gaping vulva.

The young man had been right to call her a slut, but he never stopped to consider that Catherine glorified in being a slut. The warm weather gave her the freedom to wear next to nothing, a tiny miniskirt with her smooth sex left bare, a gauzy see through crop top or open mesh halter top, to walk barefoot through downtown and feel the thrill of so many eyes upon her.

Catherine read on, the description of the Princess's torment kindling the slow burn in her body to a steady fire, the many hands touching the Princess, the occasional pinch as someone stretched the Princess's secret lips between hard callused fingers, a finger dipped inside the Princess's pool of nectar before caressing her exposed pearl. Catherine could feel her own muscles squeezing down in sympathy, could feel her own nectar flowing from her body at the description of the Princess's many orgasms.

Catherine chanced a glance up at Peter and found him still staring intently between her legs, his lower lip caught between his teeth and a very noticeable bulge swelling the front of his jeans. Catherine shifted her feet again to find another patch of hot concrete, her feet rising up on her toes while she opened and closed her knees slowly. Catherine could feel her flower opening and closing, could feel her moisture coating her petals and flowing freely down between her cheeks and felt her heart skip a beat when Peter licked his lips in obvious hunger.

Catherine considered for a moment, weighed the young ass half her age against the old stud in his prime who might be twice her age.

Peter glanced up and caught Catherine gazing intently at him and raised his coffee in a salute before taking a sip.

"Perhaps you'll let a white knight at least buy you another coffee so you don't leave any time soon," Peter said in his deep tenor.

Catherine continued to stare at Peter, a finger reaching up to tweak one of the two inch long 'wood screws' that were her nipple piercings today, piercings that also just also happened to intentionally keep her nipples stretched, a constant pull on her sensitive nipples. The large and obvious bulge in Peter's jeans drew Catherine's eye, Peter's half smile widening at her interest.

"Maybe you'd like a little cream with your coffee?" Peter asked.

Catherine closed her eyes and gave a rueful shake of her head.

"You were doing so well too," she said sadly and stood up, her skirt slipping down but not far enough to hide the moist crease of her sex from Peter's staring eyes.

"What?" Peter asked in confusion.

"A little cream for my coffee?" Catherine repeated with a rueful shake of her head, "Really?"

Catherine gave a small shake of her head while staring at Peter with a disappointed smile before walking slowly across the patio and towards the sidewalk. Peter's sudden deep laugh sent butterflies through her stomach and she had to hide a smile at his reaction.

A little boy would get angry, lash out, wile a mature man... a man who was confident and assured of himself...

Catherine recalled the respectable bulge beneath Peter's jeans as she reached the sidewalk and began her leisurely walk home. Daydreams of confident, self-assured men who knew exactly how they liked to be pleased, who knew exactly how to please chased daydreams of being bound and displayed, being casually touched and caressed by every stranger on the street.

Catherine savored the feel of the hot pavement and sharp stones on her bare feet, bit her lip at the constant throbbing burn between her thighs, the sharp tug of her piercings as her nipples responded to her mood and welcomed the open stares of the men and women who passed her on the sidewalk.

She had seen Peter a few other mornings, had spread her legs for him to gaze at her smooth mound and open, gaping sex.

A confident, self-assured man smiling as he took in her intimate view.

Tomorrow. Perhaps the day after.

She wondered if Peter would accept her invitation and never noticed the startled look of the young college age man with an armful of books when he saw her reach down to slip a hand beneath the waistband of her skirt.

She had plenty of toys for today with the midday sun shining down on her spacious deck. Plenty of time to spend an hour or two enjoying the sun soaking into her sweat soaked skin, plenty of time to enjoy the fantasy, to savor the dream.

And then tomorrow... perhaps the next day...

Possibly, maybe... even both.