Forced to Watch -

We'd had one drink each and I'd been blushing progressively deeper and deeper shades of red, if the gentle burn in my cheeks told me anything. Deeper and deeper each time his eyes met mine as his hand moved up under N's short skirt and clearly wasn't idle.

With a languorous look in stark contrast to the tightly knit bundle of nerves I was feeling, N was all collarbones, smoky eyes and long gazelle legs... she parted those slightly. Covert but compliant, at ease and oozing pleasure. She looked at me through half lowered, heavy eyelids, relishing whatever she was feeling, relishing her full embrace of it; relishing her sheer abandon within the secluded booth.

And he. He positioned himself in a stance of sheer entitlement, all the while intently monitoring on my reaction.

I was flushed, my thighs clamped together in denial, but that only made me more of aware of what was also subtly responding between my legs.

I was further away, but the looks pinned me. I was almost transfixed by the heavy air of arousal, of attraction, of sex.

We'd only had one drink. And I was acutely aware of my swallow every time I sipped a cool measure of liquid. The swallow made me acutely aware of my throat. Curious that it suddenly felt so bared and vulnerable under that stare.

His mood seemed to change. He withdrew his hand from N's skirt, bringing it to her mouth, where she slowly, softly wrapped her lips around his fingers and cleaned them, all the while gazing up at him. He smiled at her act, cupping her cheek momentarily and then took his hand from her and decisively leaned forward towards me and removed my glass from between my two hands, setting it down on the table.

The remaining ice chimed in the sudden movement.

He shifted across the booth seating, drawing closer, leaning closer, with a look of inspection on his face. An experimental expression passed across it as he raised his hand once again and cleared my hair away from my face. Slowly, he pushed a finger in between my own lips, still wet from the last sip of my cool drink.

Something came over me then when I met his eyes, although my cheeks blazed at this bold, intimate gesture in public. My tongue rose up to meet his finger and I lapped it slowly within my mouth, my own lips closing around his finger as he moved it in and out oh so slowly. His eyes seemed to darken; a new feeling seemed to enter the space. Maybe his own breath quickened, as my mouth explored the ridges and callouses of that finger, so foreign, and yet it seemed to make every nerve on my lips and tongue tingle with sensation and anticipation and need. The booth fell away amid that swarm of sensation and focus.

He rather abruptly withdrew his finger and thumbed my lip instead, cupping my own warm cheek. "She's pretty, isn't she?" He turned to N, his other hand back on her knee.

N's own eyes trailed up and down with their own appraisal. "Yes, she is." She smiled slightly - warmly, but with secrets.

With his eyes unlocked from me, I snapped out of that strange trance, and tried to order my thoughts.

He glanced back and spotted the change.

"She's pretty...but look at that dark heated stare." He pointed to me. "I'd be careful Princess. Stare at people with those eyes and you might get quite the opposite effect of what you intend." They both laughed quietly.

"Because you're a defiant little Princess aren't you?" Those eyes hooked me again. "You're too innocent, too noble to have dark, dirty thoughts. Even if men take one look at that face you're giving me and have all kinds of other ideas."

His hand moved down to her throat, her collarbone. "Oh yes, too, too good for all of that, aren't you Princess. You think you're above it all, don't you?" His grip tightened.

"Too noble? Too innocent? Too pure? Well, you're mine now." He got up, pulling me with him. He gestured to N to lead the way. "Let's continue this upstairs. She's a shy one, and not quite ready for public displays."

I flushed in embarrassment and indignation. This is not the kind of situation I'd put myself in. Why was I letting him talk about me in this way, and to N, a woman I barely knew too?

"I'll show you what happens to Princesses who think they are better than me. Who think they are above me." He muttered in my ear as he marched me along behind N into an elevator. As she entered he lightly spanked her ass and moved me in. He pushed me against the lift wall, pausing for a second with his face inches from mine, body inches from my body. Hips inches from my hips. A ragged breath as he closed his eyes, ran a hand through my long loose hair and inhaled its scent. Then pushed away, and, as the lift ascended, caught N in his arms.

"She doesn't want to be touched. No man should grope her. No man is entitled to her body. Well then, I can find my pleasure elsewhere with more willing companions, can't I, N?" He pulled N into a careful, controlled kiss, while his hands roamed over her body, and she melded herself to him. He ran his hands over her body, cupping her ass, and pushing between her thighs again. She moaned.

The door pinged. I remained pressed against the wall. So close to his hands and their intertwined embrace; sucked into the heavy feeling again accumulating in the air.

We reached a room, and as he unlocked the door, N stood next to me, caught my wide eyed look and chuckled freely. Not cruely, but simply sensually: "I like her. I can see why you like her."

As if pulled I walked into the hotel room with N behind. Only when the door shut did my mind again snap to attention and begin to panic.