You're so pretty tonight---the tasteful white blouse looks beautiful against your skin. Those pants fit just right, and your hair is falling just how I like it around your face and shoulders. Classy, sexy, and mine. All mine.
I look you over as you come back to our table at the restaurant, and you roll your eyes, grinning as you take your seat. It's a fancy place, white tablecloths and crystal glasses. You'd called to say you wanted to meet up; I knew what you meant. It's been a week or so, you're stressed, horny, and you want your orgasm and back rub, but I had to insist on dinner. I could hear the mixed feelings in your voice over the phone...disappointed but still a little flattered to be taken on a nice date like a nice girl.
We chat and flirt over entrees and wine, just like normal people. When the check comes I can see your mind starting to think forward to what's next: drive back to my place, go to the bedroom, take our clothes off, sex, backrub, sleep. No, I think to myself. Not tonight, sweetheart.
I pay the check and walk you out to my truck, open the door, saying you're welcome as you thank me for such a nice dinner and for being such a good date. Baby, just wait....
We pass the normal turn back to my apartment and your eyebrows bunch slightly with confusion. You look over to say we missed the turn but see that I know exactly what I'm doing.
"Where are we going?" you ask.
I listen with satisfaction to your expectations melting away as we drive.
"You'll see."
You peer at me intently for a few seconds, the bored shape of your mouth curling into something entirely different, then settle back into your seat with body language that makes my mouth water. As we pull up to the small, shady club, I reach into the back seat, lift up a small bag, place it in your lap and look right in your eyes.
"Put it on."
Your chest rises a little faster as your breathing responds to my tone of voice. You look down into the bag, seeing the change of clothes inside, then back up at me.
"Where?" you ask.
"Here. Now."
You stare at me for a few seconds, the truck still running in this dark corner of the parking lot. It's getting late and we're downtown. Not many people around, but you never know. I watch your eyes flash as you decide, then enjoy the sight of your hands going down to the edge of your shirt to pull it up over your head. The white, lacy bra was clearly meant for me, and I can see the edges of some matching panties peeking up out of your waistband. The top you pull back down over your head is also white, but a lot smaller and tighter, with enough shimmer in the material to look just the right kind of cheap. Then, with just a slight hesitation, you unzip your pants and start to push them down your thighs. I reach over and put my hand on your wrist to stop you, then just barely touch your waist to indicate your panties.
"Those, too."
You stare at me with a look I know too well, then move your hands back up to pull your panties down with your pants, down past your knees, then slipping off your feet. My eyes drink in your bare legs as they move and bend, catching just a few glimpses between them....
You slide into a black skirt that's way too short, the bottom edge not even halfway down your thighs as you arrange the new clothes and slip your feet back into the same nice heels that you'd worn to the restaurant, then look over at me, your eyes asking, "Now what?"
I open my door and walk around to open yours, saying "Let's go," then helping you out and holding your hand as we walk across the empty parking lot. The building is low and dumpy, with a some neon signs out front and bass pumping through the walls as we get closer. The doorman opens up and waves us in, looking you up and down as we go by.
Inside is almost pitch dark, and the air is heavy with sound and smoke. There are a few people dancing to the thumping music, barely visible through the smoke and shadows. Still holding your hand, I lead you along the wall to a table near the dance floor. Leaving you at the table, I go and get a couple of strong drinks from the bar, returning to set one in front of you. After we drink, you peer at me expectantly, and I notice your legs are crossed rather consciously, and you're squirming a little in your seat as the skirt rides up almost to your ass.
I try to mouth as clearly as I can, "Dance for me." You take a deep breath and stand up, taking a step toward the dance floor before I grab your wrist and pull you back toward me.
"No. Here. At the table."
You hesitate for just a second, pick up your drink, down it, brush your hair back and start to sway with the beat right in front of me. My eyes eat up your curves as they bend and move inside the deep, vibrating bass from the nearby speakers. The smoke curls around your legs and up inside your skirt as you bend over just enough to let it ride up to the bottom of your ass cheeks...then straighten and work your hands up and down your body as you writhe for me. I imagine the invisible eyes that must be on you. I imagine you letting the straps of your shirt fall off your shoulders and sliding the top down, the white lace of your bra peaking out over the edge. I imagine you running your hands up your ass and cupping your tits outside the shirt, then straddling me to dance in my lap, your cleavage inches from my lips. I imagine sliding the skirt up your thighs till your naked pussy is grinding in my lap, your skirt bunched around your waist as you writhe and lick your lips with dance floor lights and smoke curling around your body....
I snap awake from my fantasy and pull you down to speak in your ear above the music.
"Go out to the truck and sit in the middle of the front seat."
I slip my keys into your hand and watch you head for the door, just a little stagger in your step as the alcohol starts to loosen up your body. Perfect, I think to myself. As soon as you're gone, I go to the bar and sit next to my acqaintence, telling him my idea is working out exactly like I wanted it to. He leaves cash on the bar for his drink, and we make our way outside.
I know you can see the front door from where you are, and I imagine your mind racing at the sight of us walking across the parking lot toward you. My friend is almost as tall as I am, with a close shaved head, light black skin, and well muscled arms and shoulders filling out his shirt. When we get close enough, I see you sitting in the middle of the front seat, just like I told you. Good girl.
He gets in on the passenger side, and I climb in behind the wheel. As we close the doors and settle in on both sides of you, I notice how your hands are resting on your thighs, your fingertips trembling almost imperceptibly right at the bottom edge of your skirt.
"Hey," he says.
