Oh, yes….tomorrow. Well, I was thinking… I would get there early so I could watch you walk through the door; I would sit at the bar and order champagne (to help me relax of course; I wouldn’t want you to see that I was nervous). You are running late, and by the time you get there I am already on my second drink and beginning to emulate the champagne as the bubbles go straight to my head.
We kiss hello on the cheek and say our “pleased to meet you”s and we sit down on a banquette that has a corner table so we are sitting almost next to each other and our knees touch and I move my knee away too quickly. I am still very nervous and I start playing with my napkin and even though I’ve quit smoking I really want one now and you put your hand on top of my hands and you tell me to “stop it” and I do. You ask me if I want you to tell me the story of the date from the night before; I look up at you and for the first time really look at you – your eyes, your hair, your face, your wrinkles, your eyes; and I can smell you and I like it and I say “Yes”. You begin your narrative in a very light-hearted way, but as the story progresses you become more earnest; your voice lowers and becomes husky, your pupils are dilating, you are staring at me unblinkingly. I watch you as you describe the things that were done to you, study your lips as you tell me what you did to her and how you made each other feel; my breathing becomes labored, I cannot take my eyes off of you and I am beginning to feel something stirring between my legs. I am starting to get wet and I am not wearing any underwear and I am afraid that it will start to seep through my skirt and everyone will know how exited I had become. At that moment the waiter interupts us and thank god because I didn’t know how much more I could take; I use this opportunity to excuse myself to go to the ladies room and as I walk away I can feel you staring at me from behind and I know there is a wet mark on my skirt and I know that you can see it and you know why it’s there.
You are watching me with your head down as I walk back towards the table; I feel a little embarrassed, but less than before – the mood seems to have lightened slightly. We talk about your books, my art, what we like to do and what we don’t like to do; I start to tell you of my past relationships and I ask you “what do I do wrong?” and you say start from the beginning and in the beginning I always sleep with someone, so I procede to tell you some stories and as I get to a sad part a tear rolls down my face and you kiss my hand and you kiss my face and you say “tell me more”, so I do and it’s becoming a little more fun now; I’ve gotten past the worst part. You ask me to describe what some of these men have done to me and I tell you; I leave nothing out and as I’m speaking you interupt me to say “Touch me” and you are looking at me very hard and I reach under the table and I lightly put my hand on top of your jeans and I can feel you through your pants, straining against the fabric and you say “leave it there for a minute” and the waiter comes over and my hand is still there and now I am starting to get flushed and my hips are starting to move slightly and I know that there will be another wet spot soon and I try to stop thinking about it, but I can’t. You take my hand away and tell me to sit up a little as you slide your hand under my ass, pulling up my skirt just enough for you to be able touch me. You say “don’t move” as you begin to move your fingers back and forth, softly, gently and I make a noise and you say “shhhh” and I am so wet and I am doing all that I can to not grind my body down on your hand, but you still don’t want me to move, so I don’t but oh my god I want to soo bad. I tell you that I cannot take it anymore and you tell me that we still have to pay and that I should wait outside for you.
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Tags: ass, kiss, touch me, wet
