Written under the Direction of and Approved by IF.
*****
She ['Katie', if that was her name] returned from the Ladies, slid elegantly into the nook - and smoothly across until the warmth of her hip was pressed to mine. "Thank you," she turned, biting down quickly on my earlobe, then taking up the fresh glass of wine I'd ordered in her absence.
She was attractive. Very. Although she claimed it to be 'purely the fortunate product of good genes', she was a little too blonde to be natural and clearly the product of considerable efforts at maintenance overall. And it worked. Gone 40ish, at least, the money and effort had kept her trim and firm and sexy, and, well, the fun-loving-stroke-kinky part was probably innate - but this was probably made more obtainable, and or at least more acceptable, because of the money. How else would she have the pure hutzpah to snug up beside, and drop her hand nonchalantly on the erect cock of a naked-from-the-waist down-male probably close to half her age?... in a public bar?
Okay, it wasn't the Ritz, or any caliber beyond the basic really. But it was a bar... and it was public...and there were people around: 60 or 70 by my nervous-flickabout not-want-to-meet-anyone's-eye count.
And you already know discretion wasn't her concern. As proven by the way she casually moved in on me, nibbling my ear and chuckling in a manner only the truly confident, and wealthy, could imagine being appropriate. As if any attention she did draw was no concern of hers.
Which it wasn't. Or wouldn't be. Because it was me who lacked the basic elements of modesty if found out...ie clothes.
Noblesse Oblige. That was the term. Despite being an historian, well, a history grad student, I was so shocked by the whole afternoon I'd been drawing a blank...on most things, and certainly on historical terms. She had the full blown Noblesse Oblige fuck-the-peasants attitude - up to and including stripping me of my jeans, briefs, socks and shoes.
Now her hand was stroking me, slowly.
Clearing my throat, and moistening it with a swallow of wine, I said: "Any chance I can win back, you know, my clothes?"
She laughed, too loud of course. Decibels too loud. The temp in that bar escalated exponentially as heads turned in our direction. While she went right on stroking me, forcing me to rise involuntarily and hover a little above the upholstered bench seat.
"Are you serious?" she asked, also too loud.
"Yes. Please."
She took her hand away and I dropped like a stone into a pond onto the seat. Her hand came to rest on my thigh instead and she said, "What's in it for me?" As the hand already started working its way back toward my exposed, vulnerable erection.
How do you answer that? Especially when my shoes, socks, jeans and briefs had disappeared into her handbag and she, the handbag and my clothes had disappeared into the Ladies. So she was feeling protective of her winnings, obviously, and judging from her overall attitude she'd feel even better for stripping me of my shirt. Preferably here presumably. So she could show me off as a prize.
"Could we continue, you know, somewhere else?"
Chuckling, she shook her head, then clamped down on my earlobe once again, briefly, but hard enough to mist my eyes, moving her hand all the way back to brush my erection as she said, "And how do you propose to get out of here? - since you're clearly sensitive about being seen as you are, so to speak?"
She had a point. And an educated hand - and a body and a smile to die for. And a dog-with-a-bone attitude. "And I still want to know what's in it for me?"
I exhaled, slowly, took another sip.
"All I have left is, umh, this," I plucked quickly at the front of my shirt, glancing around again in case anyone was paying heed to us...to me.
"That's the only garment you have left, true." She paused, eyes fixed on mine. "Oh, come now. When we met online..."
On an adult pickup site.
"...I said I like my men young, hard, naked and at my beck and call..."
That was true.
"...and you said you'd always enjoyed a bit of CFNM experimentation..."
Were the two women to our left looking over this way? It dawned on me most of the customers were female. You have to believe me, I was that horny and, I don't know, that something, I simply hadn't put it together - that a bar in the major shopping district of town at one in the afternoon would be all women of a certain age taking a break for wandering the aisles and discount bins.
"...especially with a firm take-charge lady," she continued, completing her thought.
"That's true, but..."
She laughed, interrupting me, same volume as before. "Yes, your naked butt is on the bench and you're down to your shirt. While I'm here ready, willing and able to take charge. " Her smile broadened. "And put you through a few paces."
"Sounds like both of our fantasies come true," I muttered. Intending sarcasm.
"You did take $100 at the outset of our date."
That was true. It was so I could buy her drinks, etc., and act like an actual male date. Although it was sort of implied that anything not used would simply stay in my pocket. But now the two women next booth over were definitely interested - and I had no pockets for the remaining money.
"Exactly." Removing her hand from my erection, seemingly drawing me off the bench once again to chase it. "On three. One, two, three..."
She produced scissors to my paper, tilting the earth. Because that was how I ended up stark naked in a not very fashionable bar in the downtown area at 1pm so most of the clientele were females of a certain age and disposition...
