by LK Shaw
“Good morning, Penny.” My yogi welcomed me as I entered the studio.
“Hey Estelle, how’s it going?” Estelle was seventy if she was a day, and I wanted to be as healthy and bad ass as she was when I reached her age. As every one slowly filed in, we took our regular places and started with a light warm-up. Forty-five sweaty minutes later, we started our cool down. I briefly stayed after class and chatted with a few of the other members. When I saw how late it was getting, I said my good byes knowing I still needed to shower and head to work.
After showering at the studio, I threw my bag in the trunk of my car. I pulled out of my parking spot, and as I headed down the road, I checked my rearview mirror and noticed a silver car pull out almost immediately after I did. I took my regular route to work, and turn by turn the car stayed right behind me. I only noticed it because of the tacky pine tree shaped air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. I pulled into the hospital parking lot with the same car still behind me. Except when I turned into the lot, the car went straight. I also noticed through my side mirror as the car passed that it seemed like the driver was staring right at me. I didn’t get a good glimpse of him though because whoever it was, he wore a baseball cap and sunglasses. As if he didn’t want to be recognized. I shook it off and went about my day not giving it another thought.
I had barely finished my shift when my phone rang. My heart began racing as Marcus’ name popped up on the caller ID. “Hello,” I answered, slightly breathless.
“Hello, my beauty. How is that luscious ass of yours today?” His voice sounded gravelly on the other end. Even though I knew it wasn’t possible, I swore I felt the burn of a single handprint across my ass cheek with his question.
“My ass is fine, thank you,” I responded primly.
He laughed on the other end. “I’m almost disappointed. I had hoped the imprint of my hand on your succulent ass continued to burn.” Wow, it’s like he’s a damn mind reader. “What are your plans for dinner, Sweetness?” he continued.
Excitement buzzed at seeing him again. “Whatever your plans are, Sir.”
“Good answer, Sweetness. When you get home, change clothes, and I’ll be there soon. I hope you enjoy Italian. Casual attire is fine, by the way, so don’t feel like you have to dress up. Although, I’m not opposed to seeing your long, gorgeous legs in a skirt or dress again. I’ll see you soon, Sweetness.” The line went dead. I stared at the phone for a second. I really needed to teach this man the appropriate way to end a phone call. A good-bye every once in awhile would be nice. Regardless, I found myself rushing home to get ready for his arrival. Even though I’d hated being punished, I was anxious to see what he’d teach me next.
I had barely finished putting earrings in when my doorbell rang. Feeling giddy, I calmed myself and took my time getting to the door to avoid looking overeager. I took a deep breath and opened the door. Marcus was gorgeous as always. What surprised me was the single red rose he held in his hands. With one bloom, the walls around my heart started to crack. Only twice before in my entire life had I received flowers — once was from a group of girlfriends for my thirtieth birthday. The other time they came from my mother at my college graduation, so those didn’t count. My ex had certainly never bought me flowers.
“Good evening, Sir.” I was surprised at how calm I sounded considering the momentous event that had just happened. Marcus handed me the rose and dropped a soft kiss on my lips, lingering long enough to make me want more. When he pulled away, I had to stop myself from swaying toward him.
“You are beautiful, as always, Sweetness,” he complimented.
I ducked my head in response and smiled softly. “Thank you, Sir, for both the compliment and the beautiful flower. I love it. Please, come in. Let me put this in some water and then I’ll be ready.” I hurried to the kitchen and put the rose in a vase I found under the sink.
He was patiently waiting in the living room when I returned. He turned at my approach and held his hand out. “Shall we?”
I placed my hand in his outstretched one and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
Marcus continued to hold my hand as we drove in silence to this quaint Italian restaurant, Fratello’s. I hadn’t eaten there before, although I had heard good things about their food. While the valet took Marcus’ keys, he placed his hand on my lower back and directed me toward the restaurant. The heat of his hand burned through my clothes warming my entire body. I turned my head to tell him I was looking forward to trying out the restaurant when I noticed a silver Honda parked half a block down. “Hmm, that’s strange.”
“What’s strange?” he asked.
Without drawing attention to where I was looking, I nodded my head in the general direction and replied, “There’s a silver Honda parked over there. It looks like the same car that I think followed me to work from the yoga studio this morning. It even has the same stupid pine tree freshener hanging from the mirror.”
Marcus’ head whipped around at my words to stare at me. “You’re only now telling me that a car followed you?” Then he turned to stare at the car with an expression on his face I couldn’t determine.
I jerked back at the anger in his voice. “Well, I don’t know for sure that it followed me. It seemed like it did. I’d never seen it before so it might have been a coincidence that it was going the same way.” Even I didn’t believe my own words.
He began firing off questions. “Did you see who was driving? Was it a man or a woman?”
I answered the questions, and with the intensity of his stare, I started getting scared. “Do you know who it is?” I asked.
Silence followed my question. I was about to repeat it, but he shook his head. “Never mind, I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
Confused by his sudden change in demeanor, I asked if he was sure and whether he thought I should go to the police. He waved off my concern and ushered me toward the restaurant again. Even though he’d blown me off, tension continued to radiate off him.
Upon entering the restaurant, we were greeted by the maître d’ who sat us at a booth in a corner at the back of the restaurant. Marcus directed me to slide in first, and he followed in behind. Our waiter came and took our drink orders before heading into the kitchen. Marcus reached over and grasped my hand again, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. Shivers raced down my spine, my nipples tightened, and wetness coated my inner thighs. I’m not sure if he was trying to comfort me or himself. While we waited for the waiter to return, Marcus released my hand, leaving me bereft of his touch. Until I felt his hand on my thigh.
“Leave your hands where they are,” came his order.
Forgetting the weird vibe I’d gotten from him earlier, excitement came over me and I followed the order.
His earlier comment about wanting to see my legs had prompted me to wear a dress. Cotton tickled my legs as Marcus began walking his fingers along my thigh, pulling fabric upward with each bend of his knuckles until I felt the tops of my thighs exposed to the cold restaurant air. I shifted in arousal and slight nervousness about people knowing what he was doing under the table. Unfortunately for me, I forgot about his instructions to never wear underwear in his presence. Until his fingers froze when he felt the silk undies I had on.
“What did I tell you about wearing underwear around me?” he scolded.
I gulped in apprehension. “That if you ever found me wearing them, you’d rip them off no matter where we were.”
“And yet you’re still wearing them. You should know after the spanking you received that I don’t make empty threats. However, I’m not going to take them off.” I sagged in relief until he spoke again. “You are. Now.”
I scooted toward him to exit the booth so I could go the ladies’ room. He tightened his grip on my thigh, stopping me.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“I was going to the restroom to take them off as you requested, Sir.”
He stared unnervingly at me. “Take them off right here, right now.
Lift your butt up and slide them down your legs and hand them to me.”
I scanned the restaurant and spied the waiter heading our way. I began to panic a little. “Sir, can I please wait until the waiter leaves?”
“No, you cannot. This is part of your punishment for disobeying. Now, take them off and hand them to me. I won’t repeat my request a third time. Twice was one time too many as it is.”
It was then that the waiter reached our table and asked if we were ready to order. I hadn’t even perused the menu yet. Now I was expected to take off my underwear with this young man, a child practically, standing only three feet away from me. Marcus squeezed my thigh again in warning as he ordered himself chicken parmesan with a side salad. As surreptitiously as possible, I inched the dress up under by butt and wiggled my underwear down. I parroted Marcus’ order in hopes the waiter disappeared quickly. “I’ll have the same thing he’s having.”
After the waiter wrote down my order and started to excuse himself, Marcus stopped his retreat by asking about wine choices to go with our meal. I groaned, knowing he was doing it only to torture me. As the waiter listed the wines that would complement our meal, Marcus softly cleared his throat to remind me of the task I had paused. I saw the waiter’s eyes dance in my direction during his recitation. As Marcus prolonged my agony by pondering which wine to order, I continued sliding my underwear down my legs until, finally, they pooled at my feet. I stepped one foot out and then lifted the other leg as up inconspicuously as possible before I reached under the table to pull the thin slip of fabric off my foot. I transferred them to my other hand and nudged Marcus’ leg to let him know I was passing them off to him as I heard him say, “We’ll take a bottle of your finest Merlot.”
Without being covert in any way, he made a huge production of taking them from my hand as he leaned sideways to stuff them in his pants pocket. The waiter’s eyes widened, and the biggest smile spread across his lips. He quickly glanced at me again before answering, “I’ll bring that right out, sir. Ma’am.” He inclined his head in my direction before strutting off to the kitchen where I was sure he’d tell the entire kitchen staff about the woman he witnessed taking her underwear off under the table.
Marcus laughed when I jabbed him in the side with my elbow. “That was the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me. You know he’s telling everyone what I was doing over here. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t sniff them before you put them in your pocket.” I huffed.
At that, Marcus threw his head back, laughing loudly enough to attract the attention of several other patrons, who turned their head at the noise. When he finally finished laughing at my expense, he wiped imaginary tears from his eyes.
“Oh, Sweetness, don’t give me any ideas.”
As I began to pull my dress back down, he stayed me with his hand on my leg again. “Keep it pulled up. I want to see you.” I froze at the tone of his voice, which had deepened in arousal. When he continued to stare at me intently, I knew he was serious, although I never should have doubted.
“Tell me about your day. What is it that you do?” he asked as he drew lazy designs across the top of my thigh making it hard for me to concentrate on the question he asked.
It took me several seconds to answer since I was distracted by tingles spreading throughout my body. My breasts were heavy, and I shifted in my seat. “I’m a surgical nurse. I mostly assist with minor orthopedic surgeries. On occasion, I work in the Emergency Department in the trauma unit dealing with gunshot victims, stabbing victims, and car accidents mostly.” I relaxed as I spoke, forgetting about Marcus’ hand on my leg. “It’s a rewarding career, but there are also a few drawbacks as well. Like when we lose a patient. Or when it’s a child. It kills me every time a child comes in for a surgery. Even minor outpatient surgeries with low risk. My stomach clenches every time I’m working with a kid.”
“So, you like children then?” he asked.
A smile crossed my face. “I love kids. I always wanted my own, but some things weren’t meant to be. Which I’ve learned to accept. So, I play auntie to my friend’s kids.”
“Ever been married?”
I thought of my ex. “No, although I thought I would be at one time. He turned out to be a huge asshole so I’m glad I dodged that bullet. What about you? Ever been married?”
He hesitated as though not sure how to answer, and I felt my stomach drop wondering if he was going to tell me he was already married and had a couple kids waiting for him at home. I was going to be so pissed if he’d been fucking around with me and he was married. There were some things I drew the line at. “No, never married.”
Relieved, I let out the breath I’d been holding. I also forgot that my dress was rucked up almost to my waist, until the hand that had been tracing patterns on my thigh moved unexpectedly. My breathing quickened as his touch was transferred and the circles that he had been drawing on my thigh were now being drawn around my clit. Slow, then faster. Soft, then harder. He continued his assault to my senses even as the waiter returned with our wine.
His finger slipped lower, teasing my opening, causing me to shift in my seat. A soft moan escaped before I could stop it, and the waiter paused in pouring the wine to look at me. I forced myself to stop moving and offered a bored smile, pretending that nothing out of the ordinary was occurring. Clearly, my acting skills needed work because he winked at me. Oh, God. Let me die of embarrassment now please.
Finally, the waiter left us alone, just as Marcus slid his entire finger in my hole and crooked it upward. Then he withdrew until only the tip was touching me before plunging it back in. On and on he fucked me with his hand occasionally stopping, only to press it in deeper and to scrape across my g-spot again until wetness coated my thighs and no doubt the booth seat below me. How he timed it perfectly, I had no idea. As the server stepped up to our table to deliver our food, Marcus drove two fingers into my seeping pussy, causing a roaring orgasm to rush through me. My nails dug into the wood of the table above me as I tried to keep myself from moving and screaming my release. It had been several days since I’d orgasmed due to his instructions, so this one was so powerful, I felt blood flood my mouth from where I’d bitten my lip to hold back my scream of ecstasy. As the shivers continued to rack my body, I ducked my head to calm my breathing. With my head down, I noticed the bulge in Marcus’ pants. It comforted me slightly knowing the discomfort he was probably feeling. I still didn’t look up again until I was sure the waiter had gone.
I focused on Marcus, sure I’d see a satisfied smirk on his face knowing he made me orgasm in public. Instead he gazed at me so intently, arousal practically glowing from his eyes and an expression of awe on his face. I also saw a flash of something unidentifiable.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed. Watching you lose control like that was spectacular. While there might be a few women in here who would look at you as though you did something wrong, I bet there are twice that number of women who wish they had been you. They wish their man would have the balls to give them an orgasm that hard. I can guarantee that if you asked them, they wouldn’t care that it was in front of a restaurant full of people. You are beautiful and sexy, and every one here is going to see how much you turned me on when we get up to leave, because I don’t see myself losing this erection any time soon. I’m going to have a hard-on for days.”
Some of my embarrassment left me at his words. I still trembled in shock from having an orgasm in such a public way. Yes, he’d made me orgasm at Eden, but it had been in a darkened corner, where as this was a well-lit restaurant, and I knew that someone had been watching us. Now that my embarrassment had faded a little I could admit to a small amount of pride in the fact that I turned this man on with minimal effort.
We spent the rest of the night enjoying our meal and talking about our daily lives even though he seemed distracted and tense again now that he’d pleasured me. It actually felt like a real date. He even dropped me off at home with a long, de
ep goodnight kiss that had me ready to jump his bones.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come in?” I asked shyly, expecting him to snap up the invitation.
It surprised me when he shook his head. “Not tonight. Thank you for a lovely dinner. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Confused, and admittedly, a little hurt, I watched him get in his car and drive off, neither of us noticing the man standing across the street in the shadows.
Penny
“That man confuses the hell out of me,” I complained to Bridget. I called her after Marcus left. “He takes me out to a nice dinner, like a real date, finger fucks me under the table with a damn audience, brings me home, kisses me goodnight, and leaves.”
“What’s wrong with that? I think it’s sweet.” Bridget questioned.
“Nothing’s wrong with it, per se. I invited him in, he declined. I was beyond ready to fuck this man, and he did nothing except kiss me. Don’t get me wrong, it was a fantastic kiss, but after what happened at the restaurant, I was hoping he’d take it to the next level. He’s blowing hot and cold, and it’s driving me nuts. I can’t get a read on him. At times, it seems like he’s really interested and then he seems so aloof.”
“Have you learned nothing yet? You might have been ready to jump his bones, but you’re not the one in control in this relationship. He is. I’m sure there is a reason for everything he does or doesn’t do as the case may be. Obviously tonight was about teaching you something, not about him fucking you. Be patient, grasshopper. All good things will come. You have to learn that they may not come on your timetable. Ha ha, I said ‘come’.” Bridget laughed at her own joke.
I groaned, laughing with her. “God, you’re like a fourteen-year-old boy. If you’re done laughing at your lame teenage humor, can we talk serious here? I don’t get Marcus. I’ve been putty in his hands from the moment he first touched me. I’ve practically thrown myself at his feet. Do I need to wear a sign that says ‘Fuck me, please’?”
