Sitting in the open topped roadster, as Clara skilfully piloted it around the twisty curves of Chapman's Peak, was exhilarating. The silver Mercedes SL effortlessly glided down the tarmac, with towering rock face on the one side, and glittering Atlantic ocean on the other. It was late afternoon, and the sun was getting low, bathing everything in a warm, crimson glow. I felt like a celebrity in a music video.
I looked over at Clara. The wind was ruffling her hair around her beautiful face as we entered Camps Bay. She had a slight smile on her face, as if she were anticipating something. She must have felt my gaze on her lips as she turned to look at me. She gripped my upper leg and shook it shouting "Aren't you excited!?" I smiled back at her, nodding in confirmation.
Camps Bay was awash in the glow of trendy street cafes, the setting sun and gorgeous people. We drove past a pair of boys while we were trying to find a parking spot. The sight of 2 young girls in the sleek Merc, with perky, wind chilled nipples straining against our blouses must have been a treat for them. I saw them looking back as they continued walking by, mumbling something to each other and laughing, as guys usually do. I still felt the warm glow of power, knowing that those guys were really only interested in getting between our legs. Clara and I looked at each other and smiled. We were both thinking the same thing of course. I took a deep breath and the ocean air filled my lungs. It was warm and soft. God I felt great.
We finally found a parking space, put the roof up and got out. We walked past a few restaurants before we picked one with a balcony overlooking Camps Bay beach. I was starving. All the sexual tension earlier that day had really taken it's toll. We were shown to our table by a shy young waiter. He said his name was Eric and he'd be our waiter for the evening. He was very cute and looked quite naive, but that was judging a book by its cover. My experience has taught me that the quiet ones are the ones to watch out for.
We ordered a bottle of white wine and wasted no time in emptying our first glass. I needed something to take the edge off. I was feeling great, but I was also feeling somewhat shaky. I don't know if it was because I was hungry, or the feeling of power corrupting me in front of our young waiter. He brought our menus to the table and asked if we were interested in hearing the day's specials. We kindly permitted him to continue, and he began rattling on about this and that. Clara was leaning back in her chair, looking at me with a cheeky smirk on her face, when I noticed how tightly her blouse was stretched across her breasts. Her nipples were like needles, trying to push their way through the flimsy fabric, clearly showing her dark areolas beneath. I could hear Eric skip a few words, as he tried not to let Clara's perky antenna distract him from his task. I knew what she was doing. The bitch was such a tease. She was going to try and humiliate this poor guy and make him work for every penny of his tip. Well if she thought she was going to get away with it alone, she was mistaken. She was in for some competition. Our waiter left our table, allowing us to make up our minds before taking our order.
"Did you see that little pervert?" Clara asked, smiling innocently. "Staring at my tits instead of doing his job. I could practically feel his tongue working it's way down my top." she smirked.
"Hey, don't flatter yourself too much. Two can play that game." I said.
The wine was starting to loosen my jitters somewhat. Especially on an empty stomach. I decided to do some teasing of my own in my low cut blouse. I wasn't going to let Clara steal the show. Eric arrived back, with notepad in hand, waiting to take our orders. I looked at the menu, and pointed at a particularly sophisticated sounding French dish, leaning quite far forward in the process, allowing the front of my already low cut top to fall open. I knew my now throbbing nipples were visible, because I could feel the cold air from the airconditioning pouring down my front, making them even stiffer.
"What is that?" I asked him.
"Er, what exactly ma'am?" he muttered.
"This delightful sounding dish over here." I cooed, pointing closely at the menu.
The writing was very small, and Eric was obligated to lean closer for a better look. I glanced down at my blouse, and was quite shocked to see exactly how wide open the front of my blouse actually was. I could see both of my nipples as my breasts hung freely in the cool air. Eric continued to mutter this and that. I wasn't paying much attention to his explanations though. I glanced at Clara. She was trying very hard not to look like she knew what was going on, but she was grinning, biting her bottom lip, glaring at me. She loved it.
"Um, that'sss a mushroom fillet, sauteed in red wine, smothered in ....a creamy white sauce blah blah ." he mumbled on.
I got the distinct impression that Eric was trying to stall for time. He was talking very slowly, and incoherently, like someone trying to do two things at once. I quickly glanced up, to see his eyes quickly flicking back to the menu. He gave a little cough, and turned a very definite shade of pink. He was busted!
The little pervert was trying to soak in as much viewtime of my very puffy and voluptuously swollen aeriolas and nipples as he possibly could, before the opportunity was gone. He would then more than likely retrieve the "footage" from his twisted memory archives and use it to stroke his rapidly stiffening penis to orgasmic oblivion, before shooting a wad of cum onto the duvet, where it would dry into thin air, along with the memory of my gorgeous swollen nipples.
"I'll just have the juicy fillet with the creamy sauce please." I whispered into his ear.
He was still leaning over very close to me, after that little translation exercise. He realised his monumental intrusion on my private space, and stood upright, avoiding eye contact with me.
"And how would you like that fillet done ma'am?" he asked with his pencil in hand, ready to scribble my meat preference onto the notepad.
"Medium rare please. I like my steak to be somewhat tender." I grinned.
"And you ma'am, what can I get you?" he asked Clara.
"I'll have the same Eric." she blurted.
"And how would you like that done?" he asked cautiously.
"I'll have it medium." she said, looking at him with one eyebrow lifted high.
"Thank you. I'll have your order prepared immediately." he mumbled quickly, before turning round and walking off towards the kitchen.
"Shame Clara. Wasn't that a bit harsh?" I asked.
" Watch and learn my darling." she smirked.
"Ooh, I know that tone of voice." I said, looking at her with an evil glint in my eye.
Clara was quite a master when it came to manipulating the clay of the male mind. She could sculpt most guys into doing just about anything she wanted. I was not about to question her tactics, although her somewhat aggressive attitude towards Eric the waiter was quite surprising.
"The thing with guys is that they always want to get between the legs of a woman they can't have. Unobtainable women are seen to be more successful, and that drives guys nuts. They want to fuck us just to prove a point." she explained. "Plus it's a great story to tell their mates later." she smiled, raising her glass to me.
I raised my glass too, and we toasted.
"To guys. May they always be soft in our hands, and hard between our legs." we cheered, and winked at each other.
Our food arrived, skillfully carried by Eric. He was juggling the two hot plates, extra wine that we had ordered and a corkscrew, while quickly trotting in between the other tables, on his way to ours.
"There you go ma'am." he smiled as he positioned our plates in front of us. "Bon appetit"
I could see him looking briefly down my blouse before turning his attention to the cork in the new wine bottle. I pretended to reach for my wine glass, and deliberately knocked my knife off the table, making it crash to the tiled floor. I acted surprised and quickly posed myself forward in the chair, legs spread, ready to lean down and pick up the dropped item, but Eric beat me to it. He was down on the ground, with a perfect view up along my spread thighs, to the lacy g-string panties covering my somewhat moist lips.
