Dinner and a Show

The chime announcing the arrival of new e-mail has sounded minutes ago and now the room is quiet. She is frozen in place, watching the little envelope, mesmerized by its slow turning motion. Glancing at the subject line, she re-reads the single word again. "Instructions" is all it says. Her hand trembles as it guides the mouse pointer to the blinking icon and opens the message.

- - - - - - - - -

Thursday dawns clear and bright. After a week of rain it seems that everyone is out enjoying the warmth of the sunshine. As dusk begins to settle, people are still milling around the large outdoor mall where she's meeting him. She parks the car and tugs at her skirt nervously. His warning voice telling her not to fidget flashes through her mind and her hands fall by her sides as she imagines him watching her and being displeased.

Slowly, she crosses the parking lot to the large book store where they arranged to meet today. Her mind conjures up a snapshot of their first meeting, at this very book store. The image is of herself, curled up in a chair in the corner, warily watching and waiting... and hoping. She smiles to herself, thinking of how anxious she was; waiting for him, waiting for the unknown.

A sense of delicious anticipation rushes through her at the thought of the evening ahead. She doesn't know what he has planned, but she's eager to find out and her step quickens as she reaches the heavy wooden doors and slips inside the store.

She sees him immediately, he's sitting at one of the tiny round tables dotting the café area of the book store. He's leafing through a magazine and for a moment she hangs back, watching the changing expressions on his face. He's frowning at something he's reading and she briefly considers walking around the store to approach him from behind.

Suddenly someone bumps into her and the unexpected flurry of movements alerts him to her presence. He raises his eyes and for a space of a breath both are motionless until he closes the magazine and folds his arms across his chest, waiting for her to come to him. She weaves her way between other tables and a couple of book stands and comes to a halt in front of the spare chair at his table. As her hand grips the chair back to pull it out, he gives a little shake of his head and motions her to his side.

She steps around the table gracefully and stops next to him, her knees level with his left thigh. She raises her eyebrows slightly in silent permission, asking if she may kiss him hello and he gives a little nod. As she leans down and rests her right hand on his shoulder, she feels his left hand on the back of her knee. Just as her lips touch his in a gentle kiss, his hand moves swiftly up her leg, sliding under her skirt and coming to rest on her bare thigh, just above the lace top of the thigh highs she wore. She freezes and feels his fingers tighten slightly in warning that should she move, his hand's presence will become quite apparent to anyone who may be watching them. She whimpers softly against his mouth but holds still.

"Stand up straight," his tone is mild but it does not invite arguments.

She straightens out, keeping one of her hands on his shoulder and using the other to lean slightly on the table to her left. The hand under her skirt moves slowly along the column of her leg toward the front. She feels the breath catch in her throat and the tell-tale warmth of a flush spreading over her face.

Determinedly, she looks down at his chest, refusing to meet his eyes or the eyes of any curious on-looker who may have noticed the slightly unorthodox greeting.

"Look at me," his voice is harsher now, filled with determination and a hint of impatience.

She raises her eyes to his and bites her lip nervously as his hand continues its journey. She can feel his thumb reach out and trace a gentle circle along her shaven mound. The desire to step back and get away from his exploring fingers is overwhelming and she can feel her legs trembling with the strain. He's watching her eyes, judging her reaction and sees her pale slightly.

He can guess the thoughts running through her mind, knows how easily embarrassed she is. He wonders how long she'll meet his gaze as he watches her swallow convulsively, her hand squeezing his shoulder reflexively, almost without thought.

Finally he decides it's enough and the hand descends back to her knee. Almost in a fog, she hears him say softly,

"You may sit down."

On shaky legs, she moves away and sits down across the table from him, folding her hands on the scratched surface and watching him warily for a couple of seconds. He's smiling at her and she relaxes slightly.

"I'm pleased you followed the instructions I sent," his voice is quiet and she flushes with pleasure at the praise.

He notices the blush and continues, "did you follow all of them?"

Her voice shakes slightly as she lowers her gaze and responds, "Yes..."

"Excellent..." she can hear the smile in his voice and looks up to catch the wicked gleam in his eyes. A delicious shudder of anticipation touches her skin as she watches him.

They chat about everything and nothing, enjoying each other's company. To a casual passer-by they appear to be a couple of friends sharing a coffee and a chat. The only clues to a deeper connection are the occasional gleam in his eyes as he watches her laughing face and the way she absentmindedly grazes his hand with her fingertips as she talks.

Finally he remarks that it's almost time to head to dinner but just as she's about to rise, he leans toward her and motions for her to do the same. Her hands are still on the table and he covers both of them with one of his. His warm breath brushes her ear as he speaks softly but clearly,

"I want you to get up, walk to the restroom and insert your pink toy..." he feels her hands jerk under his and tightens his grip to let her know he's not done yet.

He can practically feel the indignation and embarrassment welling up in her and smiles inwardly as he continues,

"You will then return to the table and hand me the remote control."

She moves back to meet his eyes and the torrent of words rushes out,

"But aren't we going to dinner? What about... I mean, why..."

He raises an eyebrow and the words die on her lips as she draws a shaky breath and stands up from the table. He beckons her to him just as she's about to walk away and taking her hand, kisses it gently, grazing her knuckles with his teeth, enjoying the tremors of pleasure running through her palm at his touch. He hears her exhale and then the hand pulls away and she walks off without looking back. He wanders idly if she will just circle through the store and leave, but he knows she won't.

Time seems to stand still as she emerges from the restroom, clutching the tiny remote control in her hand. Briefly, very briefly, as she clutches her purse to her side, she considers walking out the door and not returning but then she squares her shoulders and makes her way back to the table. He's watching her approach and her step falters as she nears the table. His hand is on the tabletop, palm up, open and waiting to receive the remote control.

She feels the tell-tale heat of a blush as she lowers it in his hand and prays that he hides it quickly. Not that anyone can tell what it is, but in her discomfort, it seems as if everyone is looking at her and knows exactly what is taking place.

He accepts the tiny offering without comment and drops it in his pocket. Her inner muscles twitch nervously as she imagines him using it. The thought is both distressing and disturbingly arousing at the same time. She looks away and waits for him to get up so they can head to dinner. Instead, he beckons her toward him and when she leans forward, asks,

"Did you make sure it works?"

She blushes before she answers, "No, you didn't say that I should..." She pulls back a little, watching his eyes, trying to judge whether he's upset with her but he's smiling, the gleam back in his eyes as he responds,

"Well, we'd better check then... Wouldn't want to experience any problems later..." As the last word falls from his lips, she feels a sudden jolt of vibration inside and the surprise sends a shudder down her entire frame. His free hand reaches out to steady her as his strong gaze holds her pleading one. The vibrations stop as suddenly as they started.

"Excellent... Seems to be working," he smiles and stands up, offering her his arm. "On to dinner then."

- - - - - - - - -

The restaurant of his choice is a small, family run, Indian place with dim lighting and tiny candles dotting the tables and booths to add to the mystique of the near Eastern décor. As they walk in, he speaks briefly to the host and they're shown to a round table almost in the middle of the room.

The restaurant is relatively quiet on a weekday, with only about a third of the tables and booths are occupied. In fact, as she glances around, she can see that almost everyone else has been seated in booths and realizes that he must have specifically requested a table. In the middle of the room, no less.

She looks up and sees him watching her. A smile plays on his lips and she thinks, He knows what I'm thinking. She smiles tightly back, unwilling to confirm his thoughts but he simply chuckles and pulls out her chair for her. As she sits down, he leans over her and whispers in her ear,

"Comfortable?" his breath is warm on her skin as he moves even closer and gently tugs on her earlobe with his teeth.

She is holding very still, enjoying the sensation of his caress but also exquisitely aware of the toy inside her and the tiny remote control in his pocket.

He moves away and sits down across the table from her, stretching his long legs and trapping her ankles between them. They chat for a few minutes while the waitress brings the menus and then give their orders. When they are alone once again, he leans toward her and speaks quietly,

"You are not to cum."

For a split second she's confused and then the realization of what he just said dawns and she lowers her eyes from his, shuddering inwardly. Satisfied that she understood, he leans back and continues with the conversation that was interrupted by the waitress's arrival earlier.

She's able to keep up with the conversation fairly well until the food arrives and she watches in mounting dismay as he casually removes the remote control from his pocket and places it on the table, in plain view of anyone who should wander past. He catches her looking and meets her gaze, daring her to say something but she just shrinks back into her chair and wonders what would happen if she went to the restroom and removed the vibrator, hiding it in her purse again. Would he know? Would he check? The thought is so tempting...

He's watching her face, wondering what she's thinking. They continue talking, about their jobs, their families, about everything it seems but what's on both their minds. Occasionally his hand moves over the remote control and she tenses, but nothing happens. Just as she begins to relax, thinking that he won't turn the toy on after all, there's a sudden jolt of vibration inside, taking her by surprise and almost causing her to choke on her food.

As she splutters and grabs her glass of water, he leans forward reaching out to touch her cheek, his face a perfect picture of concern,

"Are you all right, hon?"

She glares at him as the vibrations cease and she regains her composure, "Yes... Food went down the wrong way."

"Better be careful with that. All sorts of bad things can happen when you're not paying attention to what you're doing." He winks at her and leans back to continue eating.

She can barely taste the food. Not hungry in any case, she's tense, waiting for the next jolt. The vibrations come at random intervals, each one expected but no less jarring. Some only a second or two in duration, but others lasting for a minute or longer. Every time, especially on the longer ones, as she starts to tense up and enjoy the sensations, they cease, leaving her increasingly frustrated.

She grits her teeth, willing herself not to respond to the next burst, but when it comes, her body ignores the mind and continues to seek release. Suddenly she stands up and grabs her purse,

"Excuse me for a minute," as she attempts to pass by him on her way to the restroom, his hand settles on her arm and stop her in her tracks.

"Surely you don't need your purse with you for such a quick trip," his eyes are mocking her as he continues, "I'll keep it safe for you."

His hand reaches for the purse and as they are in full view of the restaurant she has no choice but to hand it to him. His thumb gently caresses her arm as he releases her and says, "Hurry back or your food will get cold."

In the tiny, one person, restroom she paces back and forth like a caged wildcat. She considers removing the vibrator and dumping it in the trash but realizes that she can't just dispose of it without him knowing.

At his direction, she's not wearing underwear and the band of her skirt is too tight to be able to tuck the toy in it and hide it from view. After a few more paces around the little room she wonders if she can get away with hiding it in the elastic of her thigh highs. That's actually not a bad idea, she thinks to herself, on the inside of the leg...

She's almost angry enough to do it, but the thought of him finding out about the deception stops her.

She stomps her foot and winces as the jarring jolt from the heel slamming into the ground races up her leg.

"Damn you..." she mutters under her breath and then, inhaling all the way down to her toes, opens the door only to come face to face with him. He's lounging against the wall in the narrow corridor, looking straight at her.

The fierce blush that suffuses her face as she sees him confirms that his guess was correct. Taking a step forward, he forces her to retreat back into the restroom and shuts the door behind him. Leaning against it, he folds his arms across his chest and says,

"Lift your skirt."

She stares at him, mortified. Partly because she knows that he guessed what she was going to do and partly because they're in a public place and she fears discovery and subsequent embarrassment above all else.

"Did you not hear me?" His voice is calm, but there's a definite edge to it.

She swallows and counters bravely, "Why?"

He lifts an eyebrow, "Do I really need to repeat myself?"

She shakes her head and lifts the skirt so that the lace tops of her stockings come into view. Her head is down, she can't face him.

"Higher." She lifts it another inch. "Keep lifting until I tell you to stop." She shudders but obeys, lifting the skirt until the fabric is stretched almost straight up from her waist. She sees his hand reaching out and instinctively steps back, bumping against the sink.

He follows, stepping up flush against her and saying quietly above her head,

"Present yourself."

She whimpers softly but figuring she's in enough trouble already, complies, dropping the hem of the skirt and locking her hands behind her neck. Her feet step the requisite foot apart as he moves a step back and looks at her. His hand sneaks down her body, under her skirt and she feels his fingers on her flesh, locating and caressing the toy, still inside her.

Satisfied, he steps back to the door, about three feet away from her, and once again folds his arms across his chest, watching her. She's trembling slightly, her thin sweater stretched tightly across her chest and pulled upward by her arms. The skirt has descended back down her legs, though part of a hem is still folded up. She knows he's watching but she can't look at him, preferring to stare at his chest instead.

"I should make you walk back to the table like this..." his tone is calmly conversational, but her eyes widen at the words and fly up to meet his gaze.

"No... please," the sheer thought of it drains the color from her face, "please, don't."

She stops, unsure if she should continue or if he was joking. The gaze that meets hers is impenetrable and she lowers her eyes as she continues a shade lower, "please don't... I am sorry."

The silence is deafening and then he speaks,

"Don't ever do it again. Don't even think it again..."

She knows better than to play dumb and only nods to show that she understands and agrees.

She sees him turning around and hears the sound of the door being opened. Wordlessly she looks up at him, asking permission. He nods, "Yes, you may lower your arms." She fixes the hem of her skirt and slips out of the bathroom, leaving him to follow her.

Dinner is soon completed and she's relieved to find that he's not upset with her. When the check is paid, he suggests returning to the bookstore for coffee and some dessert and she nods her assent; happy that her little stunt didn't cut the evening short.

- - - - - - - - -

The evening has cooled the air and she shivers as they exit the restaurant. The car, her car since she prefers to drive when they're out together, is right around the corner, still she's shivering when they reach it and she unlocks the doors. She doesn't notice that he is still at her side until she's about to get in and his hand around her waist stops her.

He pulls her back against him and she sighs happily, melting into him. She loves his body, the strength of his embrace, the power of his arms around her. He holds her immobile for a moment and then leans toward her neck, nipping on the delicate skin as he speaks softly,

"Lift your skirt before you sit down..."

"But..." his arm tightens around her waist.

"Yes...?" his voice is soft and deceptively mild. He waits for her to comply and when she doesn't, adds,

"On second thought, perhaps I should just have you take it off..."

She stiffens and quickly responds, "No, no, I'll lift it up."

But it's too late. She feels him shaking his head behind her and then he speaks,

"No, I think taking it off is a better idea for what I have in mind."

He waits for a second, as if considering the matter further while she fervently hopes he'll change his mind. Finally he releases her waist and turns slightly so that she's now blocked from the rest of the parking lot by the driver's door on one side and his frame on another. Only her legs below the knee and her chest are visible to a passer-by.

"Take off your skirt."

She bows her head but is unable to move. Her hands are shaking. She knows that arguing will be of no use but her body is refusing to cooperate. She feels the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he leans down to her once again.

As he brushes her cheek with his lips he murmurs,

"I could of course ask you to take your shirt off as well..."

She flinches as if stung and pulls away from him. Jerkily, her hands open the snaps, release the zipper and hold the fabric for a moment before letting it drop at her feet. Still she doesn't move.

"Get in the car, I'll pick it up," his hand on her elbow guides her into the vehicle and he feels her stiffen when the warm skin meets cold leather. He leans down to pick up the skirt and after shutting her car door, walks to the passenger side and gets in.

As she pulls out of the parking lot she feels his left hand on her thigh, caressing the lace top of her stocking-sheathed leg, now on full display. She stiffens for a moment but then he speaks over the sounds of music playing softly in the background,

"I won't distract you while you're driving, but when you stop at a red light..." She glances at him and sees a smile on his lips as he raises an eyebrow at her.

A bouquet of emotions rushes through her as she watches his face. The intensity startles her, though she should be used to it by now, it's the same every time she sees him. Unable to resist, she takes her right hand off the wheel and turning her attention back to the road, gently runs the back of her palm over his cheek. He seems surprised for a moment but then catches her palm in his hand and brings it to his lips, kissing the sensitive underside of her wrist, his tongue sneaking out to tease her, as her hand trembles in his.