The Booth

He only comes to see me once a month and waits sometimes more then an hour to be my last customer of the night. There are 26 booths in the establishment, one for each letter of the alphabet, and I work behind the door marked "M".

It is usually the third Friday of the month that I see my mystery man. We have never spoken, not with words at least. I speak to him with my body. Working in the booth is how I express my sexuality. Its my weekend play space where I can be naughty. You see in the real world I'm not a casual sex girl. Since I'm not dating anyone, all I is reading smut then using my hands or my vibe. That is until the first arrival of my handsome stranger. In my head I call him Phil because it seems to fit his looks.

Our visits always start the same. He enters the booth and mouths "Good evening Miss M", placing a palm on the glass between us.

I look him over, first his demeanor and facial expression (looking for that smile that seems to hide something), then looking at the things that don't change, his bright blue eyes and mess of hair. Always the little girl, I just smile after his once over then ease back to the couch that serves as my work space.

Its cold because the air is on as usual. I think the boss keeps it on to promote hard nipples, but that's just a theory. The effect is worse for me because I take a quick shower between customers. The last thing a guy wants to see is raggedy pussy, one that looks freshly fucked by someone other them him. I want my Phil to make me wet and see fresh cum, cum that he helps create, in me.

Undressing is a process averaging two pieces of clothing a minute. The slow tease was specially requested by him so I submissively comply. Don't get me wrong, I like it too. It extends our time together.

I am a conservative girl that works a 9 to 5 so this job in my "weekend cubical" allows me to release my tension built from my sexual drought. Once naked, I am transformed into someone else. But touching myself for Phil is something I find myself thinking about in the real world. I fantasize about him at the office, on the train, while out with friends – wishing I could glance around and spot him, but mostly in my bed at night.

Tonight at the end of our session, I got on my knees in front of the glory hole in the glass to offer up the coveted blow job. Instead of his cock, Phil slid a bracelet box through the opening. Relaxing down on my calves, I opened the velvet box. There wasn't anything gold or silver inside, but cloth. He grinned as I unrolled it and realized what it was. Phil had gifted me a pair of panties.

Standing before him, I slid them up the length of my silky legs, slowly of course so that he could take pleasure in the moment. I even turned to the side so he could see the lace of the thongs between my cheeks. Just as I looked back over my shoulder the curtain dramatically dropped over the glass. His time was up.

*******

I didn't see Phil again until the following month. It was the third Friday and as usual he was my last customer.

"Good evening Miss M", he mouthed placing a palm on the glass between us like this is a prison visit.

I simply smiled and began my striptease, bearing my body to this stranger I longed for. I peeled everything off with the exception of my lovely new panties. Actually they weren't really new anymore since I had taken to masturbating in them. Each time imagining it was my Phil's fingers or tongue sliding over my clit. Velvety softness reaching inside. Licking through my tasty center each time splitting me in two. The remedy being his lovemaking, which was the only thing that could make me whole again.

Here in the booth it was two of my own fingers swimming deep in my warm center. My hips thrusting to meet them. The idea that he wanted to see me in these panties, to mold me, was all the more exciting. But we booth girls aren't supposed to accept cash tips or gifts, so I had been instructed to give them back or find another part time job.

To show my appreciation I intended to show Phil my nightly ritual before giving them back. He watched from behind the partition as I sank low on the tan leather opening my legs wide. The red triangle was stretched tight over my trimmed puss and the crotch was pulled to the side to display my folds.

I touched myself lightly at first wanting him to see all the stages of my arousal. On my back looking at myself in the ceiling then closing my eyes to lose myself in him. Tiny bumps inched over my landscape making my skin sensitive to the touch. That meant it was time to roll over onto my tummy. Soon I was fucking a pillow allowing my nipples to grate against the leather for friction. Heat crawled through me, emanating from my sticky center. Panting with each hump, pushing forward rhythmically as if being taken from behind. Grinding my pussy into this substitute for him harder and faster. Moaning into my arm to muffle these sounds that seem so personal. But in my mind he is hitting my spot, pounding it, so its hard not to cry out.

There were other sounds around me, whimpers. I turned to see him with pants undone, sagging at the hips, stroking himself in unison fucking me as I was fucking him. We were moving together on opposite sides of the glass, eyes locked, brown to blue.

Since I had started long before him, I was closer to the edge and spilled over with violent spasms that vibrated against the bands of lace trim. I was cumming in Phil's lace panties, leaving my essence. At the window, I peeled them off and tucked them through the glory hole just before the curtain dropped.