The Old Vacant Hotel
Chapter 12 - A very wet Lunch
Last week, I had finally seen Sally again. Her actual name was Quynh, and she was pretty tall and had a model figure, including formidable breasts. Which had inspired me to ask her - upstairs on the secluded veranda of our favorite coffee shop - to take her bra off to, later, present me her naked boobs in public by pulling down the elastic band across the chest on her simple, light summer dress.
So that one of her boobs could snap out nonchalantly, during our conversation. Sally had liked the idea and gladly obliged, which then had led me to conceive the idea that we could walk through town together like this. During our stroll, she could occasionally pull her dress down on one side and flash her boob - or both - if there was no one in sight.
Yes, although I would have called myself a thigh-and-ass guy all day long, Sally's tits were quite something. And flashing them in semi-public places made them even hotter; particularly, since Sally appeared somewhat straight-laced, was super intelligent and hard-working, had a decent job and not exactly a taboo-breaker.
Last week, Sally had sounded super-excited about the prospect of exploring her newly-found exhibitionist side but now, her courage seemed to have left her again: Yes, she still wanted to meet with me, but do without the stroll through the narrow alley ways of our nondescript town but, instead, sit down across the street from the vacant hotel, in the park.
I wanna test it there, first
, Sally had written. Okay, at least, she was going to flash her boobs, from what it sounded like. Well, readying herself for such a charming but also slightly depraved transgression would take time, of course, and so I agreed to her plan to start in the park, as I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable when she was spending time with me.
Sally offered to buy lunch and so, I promised to get us some drinks, in turn. Like almost every day in March, every year, it was warm and sunny with blue sky, and when I stopped to get us some beverages at the small store near the hotel, I could already see her sitting diagonally across the street, about thirty or forty yards away.
Sally wasn't wearing one of her ultra-light summer dresses with the nifty elastic band across her chest, it seemed, but a nicer one in mauve, under a light, blueish cardigan. I parked my Honda outside the hotel, since the wide street had an elevated median that was embellished with shrubs, flowers, and palm trees, and then hopped across with the bags with the drinks and ice.
The city had just cut the grass on the median, I noticed as I was waiting on it for a car to pass, but then I crossed the other two wide lanes. I cleared my throat, as I was approaching Sally, but still startled her, since she had expected me to pull up on my motorcycle and park it next to hers on the sidewalk, behind her back.
Between the bench on which she was sitting and the street, which wasn't busy at all around lunchtime, were perhaps seven or eight yards: first, the soft shoulder - with more freshly-cut grass - then a fairly wide sidewalk, plus a low wall and, lastly, some area of grass again, inside the park, so that we were in a public place but still somewhat secluded.
Sally was right: It was probably better to test here if she would get a kick out of flashing her boobs in public than it would have been downtown. Inside the park, there was a large shed, which looked like an old maintenance vehicle, where sometimes city workers would take their lunch break.
Yes, technically, we could be seen, which clearly added to the titillation.
At least, for me
. But Sally was obviously sensitive enough to realize that a secluded room wouldn't offer the thrill that we both were seeking, as she had picked the location, and I was sure that we both would get our kicks out of the somewhat bold arrangement.
I wasn't a big friend of talking about in advance what lewd things we were going to do, but there hadn't been another way, had there
?
I could have told my muse Nguyet, who then could have told Sally what I had in mind, but those two didn't know each other too well. They worked at the same company but in different departments.
No, that would have been pretty contrived
. But I couldn't have waited for Sally to conceive the idea to flash her gorgeous boobs in public, herself.
I would still be waiting
. Mira would have done it, perhaps, but her flat, disc-like tits were too small to have the impact of Sally's, which were malleable and could be seen from the distance.
Nguyet's were sagging too much, and Quyen, the young HR lady from the International School, wasn't adventurous or beautiful enough. No, it was part of the appeal and allure that Sally was drop-dead gorgeous, cultivated and modest. She had even put her straw-hat back on now, which made her look like a young lady from some French Impressionist painting, with her Prince Valiant haircut.
Yes, I had always thought that Sally had fallen out of time, for the lack of a better expression. She somehow reminded me of a silent-movie star, which I had never told her, though. She was self-confident and knew she looked drop-dead gorgeous but, still: She could probably not relate to silent movies and would perhaps not take it as a compliment.
"You look lovely. As always," I told her now, after I had sat down, perpendicular to her, with my legs spread and the right thigh under the back of the bench.
Sally didn't reply but just smiled coyly, also a tad mischievously, and was now watching me checking out her substantial bosom, which was heaving nicely under the blueish fabric. Her cardigan was already unbuttoned and ready, and I even thought that I could sense her nipples through the material of her dress.
Could that be? Well, if she wasn't wearing a bra...
"There was someone over there, earlier," she nodded toward the maintenance crew's abode with her chin.
I didn't see anyone, when I looked but, yes, the door was open. Around noon, though, the workers had already eaten and were now taking a well-earned nap, I surmised.
"Well, you d-don't... have to... do.it," I stammered quietly, alluding to the moment about which we both had been fantasizing for a week: "We could also just go across the street, to the hotel. Perhaps go all the way up to the roof," I added, sketching an alternative.
"Oh, no... no," Sally was quietly determined.
She turned a bit toward me and pushed her hat back, so that it was resting on her lovely head in like a 45-degree angle. Her left arm was on the back on the wooden bench, and now, she crossed her right leg over the other.
To celebrate that we were here together, able to enjoy the beautiful, warm lunch hour - after a long, grey winter, which hadn't been cold, at least - I cracked a can of beer open, which I then offered her, first. She took a modest sip, before she admitted that she only brought cookies. We agreed that we could go for lunch later, after our loin twirl across the street.
Sally now pulled her cardigan further open, to the sides, to that I would see her chest better. Yes, I definitely could sense her nipples under the fabric of her dress. They were probably pumping already. I noticed that the dress had a button-down front, while Sally enjoyed my warm shower of admiration.
Yes, her mauve dress was stunning: it looked tailored, had a top-part that resembled the color of her cardigan - but was more mauve than light-blue - while the skirt consisted of dozens of burgundy, light-blue, and mauve rectangles, while the relatively large buttons were brown, looking like wood.
