Lisa jumped as she felt his fingers under her dress. She couldn't decide whether to look and see if anyone could see or if she was more afraid of knowing the answer.
As his fingers danced on her clit, she became oblivious to the background noise of the restaurant. She could feel his eyes on her.
"What would you like for desert?" he said almost sweetly while increasing the tempo of his finger movements underneath the napkin in her lap.
* * * * * * *
They'd been introduced by a mutual friend. It was an introduction that could only take place in the age of the Internet. The friend lived in Connecticut. He lived outside of Washington, DC, and she lived in Chicago. In an earlier time, the introduction might have led to being distant pen pals, but nothing more.
In the age of email and IM and cell phones, however, their contact quickly blossomed. For whatever reason, they began sharing fantasies – telling each other intimate secrets.
This dinner was the result of their first bet. She was a die hard Cowboys fan, and, as a Washington native, he backed the Redskins. The teams played, the Cowboys lost, and he won. The bet was made before they'd started exploring and fantasizing together, but that just made the upcoming payoff even more exciting for both of them.
Dinner was at one of the best restaurants in Washington – a French restaurant outside the city in the wealthy suburb of Great Falls, Virginia. The lighting was subdued, the mood being set by moonlight a small candle flickering on the table.
The food had been sensational. The other diners were absorbed with their own meals and conversations. Nick's fingers were gently sliding through the moist folds of Laura's pussy under cover her napkin. He had made her come to dinner in a cocktail dress and no panties. Soon after ordering he had slid a hand under the table and hiked her skirt up into her lap. He'd been toying with her ever since.
Then there had been those questions. Idle conversation when anyone was within earshot punctuated with a whole series of personal, confidential, and often embarrassing questions when they were alone. That was the game. 'Had she ever faked an orgasm?' 'How often?' 'Why?' She felt obligated to answer truthfully.
'Did she like it when a guy came in her mouth?' 'What did she like best about it?' 'Had she ever had anal sex?' That was a big one. She had always had a strange curiosity about anal sex – a combination of fear and forbidden desire, but she'd never worked up the nerve to ask any of her previous boyfriends to do it that way.
'He knew she liked the idea of playing master and slave, but what turned her on about it?' (She knew he knew the answer, but having her say it out loud was part of the game.) 'What did she want to try that she hadn't already done?' She found, without much surprise, that having to answer these embarrassing questions in this public place was turning her on tremendously. Her pussy had been slightly moist when they'd started. It was quite damp now. She was afraid the back of her dress must be getting a wet spot and worried it would show when she got up to leave. She was very grateful for the dim lighting.
Then came the question she had been passionately dreading. It had really struck a nerve and she had done a miserable job of trying to hide the fact. "What's the most sexual thing you've done with another woman?"
She had somehow known the question would be asked sooner or later. A part of her had actually been looking forward to it. Her curiosity had been hinted at in some of the fantasies she'd written. They'd never actually talked about anything she'd done, though.
He thought about her non-answer as he continued to stroke his finger over her clit. Even in the unclear light he could tell she was blushing furiously. "Go on, explain," he again prompted.
Laura was stuck and knew it. "I've never actually been with another woman."
"But you think about it?"
She flushed even deeper and nodded her head.
"You think about it a lot. Don't you?"
Laura, still looking down, closed her eyes and said, "Yes, Master."
"So . . . you're curious about being with another woman," Nick mused, ". . . and you like the idea of being told what to do. Is it just the idea of being with another woman that turns you on, or the idea of my watching you with her?" His finger slid across her swolen, hypersensitive clit as he spoke.
* * * * *
Even before the dinner, the second bet was made – the Superbowl. Neither of them had a vested interest, but it was an excuse to play the game. They waffled over who would take which team, and then she asked what the terms of the bet would be. "Winner gets to pick one of the fantasies we've written," he said.
She was torn. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to win or lose. She'd spent so much time fantasizing and there were so many things she wanted to try that she almost said yes immediately. "But wait," she thought, "I might lose. Then he gets to be in charge," and that thought was almost even better for her. On game night, she lost, again.
He already knew that he wanted a fantasy that hadn't been written, yet.
* * * * *
She'd come to DC for the weekend on the condition that they act out one of her other fantasies along with her treating him to dinner.
She waited for him in her hotel room. She'd left a key in an envelope for him at the front desk. She was wearing the oriental-style silk dress she'd had made on a recent trip to Asia. She loved the way the silk brushed against her skin as she moved, like an invisible lover's hands over her body. She loved to look at the way the cut of the dress shaped her body – it was elegant and almost sleazy at the same time in the way that it emphasized her breasts and the high slits on each side of the skirt exposed her legs to the upper thigh - and teased the imagination with the possibility of more – with every step she took. She sat waiting on the edge of the bed. There was something erotic for her about the edge of the bed. She felt the corner of the mattress underneath her hips and thought about being bent over it – her skirt pushed up over her ass, him behind her driving into her. She ran her hands along it – feeling the stiffness of the edge with anticipation.
As he'd directed, she was blindfolded with a black silk scarf. She felt excitingly vulnerable sitting in the room knowing that she wasn't wearing underwear. She'd gotten a full Brazilian wax in anticipation of the weekend, and the feeling of her dress on her now bare pussy made her feel naked despite the dress. She thought about how she'd look to him sitting there – it made her feel sexy and very feminine.
She ran her hands up her ribs to her breasts. The anticipation was almost enough to send her over the edge.
Lost in the feeling of her hands on her breasts, she almost missed the gentle click of the door.
"Nick?"
She heard the door close with a more solid thunk.
"Nick?" she asked a little more hesitantly.
