It’s date night, and you are wearing a gorgeous sweater, an amazing skirt – it seems like an odd combination, but it sure does work. I’m a #luckydude for sure.
I take your hand, kiss it and you give me this smile that melts my insides. It’s not missed by you, either. You see it wash over me and grin. As we walk out, your chatting about this and that, talking about dinner, our night out.
“Oh, I called ahead for a reservation,” you mention. It’s not unheard of, but it seems weird…
At the restaurant, you tell the podium your name and they grin back at you, “right this way….” and we walk to the back corner of the place, to a booth, back out of the way, but still with a great view of the place. We do love to people watch and make up stories about the people in the area. It’s one of our favorite things.
As we’re sitting there, enjoying a glass of our favorite wine, you excuse yourself, returning pretty quickly and settling back in.
But then you lean over, kiss me, and I feel your hand grab me. There. and then pull away, except… not entirely? I feel in my lap, and you’ve left a present. Your … socks. I look at you with a grin, and a questioning look… “A little present for you…” you say. “Yes, yes it is,” I comment back. “Little is right.”
“Oh, is that a challenge, my dear?”
I know I’m in trouble, but I’m also not stupid.
“Yes, yes it is. A challenge for sure. I don’t know what you have in mind, but I’ll take that challenge…” I’m not sure what I’m getting into with my challenge, but… I”ve never regretted throwing caution to the wind… so to speak. Not really.
“Oh, OK,” you say. “Bring me your underwear and I’ll make your night.”
Well shit. That wasn’t really what I had in mind. I was thinking more… well, you.
I know better than to question. I head out, try to act all casual, and return as quickly as I can, terrified that everyone knows what I have wadded up in my hand. You grin at me across the room, making it ever harder, so to speak, to arrive without obvious tell-tale signs.
I lean in and kiss you, handing you my underwear. “Oh no, you hold it please, I just don’t have anywhere to put it… ” you say this, punctuated with this over the top flutter of your eyelashes…
I shove it into my pocket and settle back. “So…” I say.
“Sure you’re up for this,” you ask…. I nod.
“yup,” I say. Not knowing what exactly what you mean. You lean over and grab me, my cage, and pull out and hold. The effect on me is instantaneous – I can feel ever bit of the cage, of the pressure you’re applying and the pressure I’m adding to it from the inside.
Of course, you? You keep on talking… Like nothing is going on. And you keep asking me questions about inane things. That person over there, the dish that other couple ordered.
The waiter walks up, oblivious. You order, somehow, while keeping the pressure up on my cage. Then you look at me, you know I’m going to stutter and stammer, so you look at me, put a finger to my lips to shush me, and turn to the waiter and order for me, capped off with a knowing smile to the waiter. He skips a beat, grins back at you, then walks away to get things rolling.
“Look at me…” you say….
I do, and you lock eyes with me. Without missing a beat, you do that thing you do, it’s subtle and sexy as fuck, all at the same time. You reach around, undo your bra, and quietly, slowly pull it off from under your dress, without anything obvious happening, other than handing me your bra under the table… No one would be the wiser, but me.
“Hold this for me, please,” you say. I’m not sure what to do with it, so I shove it behind me on the seat. Your hand is back on me. messing with me, playing with me, literally and figuratively.
Dinner arrives, we eat, talking and chatting, then all of a sudden, you look at me, and just mention “is it me, or is it just really warm in here?” You pull the sweater off, revealing a lacy top, that is just flat-out gorgeous. I know what’s under it, absolutely nothing since I have it behind me on the seat. I groan a bit, seeing right through the fabric.
We finish up dinner and are talking, finishing off our wine, and you sit back a bit… It seems like you’re just relaxing, but then I realize… you’re squirming a little. It passes quickly, and you reach under the table and come up with your panties, handing them to me.
“Oops.” You grin.
I’m worried now. I have to get these items out of the place. I have to do it without being obvious, and I’m also concerned about the fact that you’ve been playing with me the entire time, so hoping that I’m not a leaking, obvious mess.
You lean into me, smile, and tell me “See? It’s like a private striptease, but in public and now you get to figure out how to hide it.”
I figure I’ll use your sweater, wad it up in a ball with your clothes in it… but then you tell me you need your sweater before we go – it may be cold outside….
Then I spot it. I didn’t finish quite all of my food. Nor did you. I flag down the waiter, ask for a box and a bag and jam everything into the bag as we get ready to go.
I figured I pulled it off, hid things well. We’re sitting in the car, talking about the evening ahead and I hand you the bag. You immediately start giggling this funny giggle.
You hold the bag up – “Did you see this? ” you ask…. “it’s a FANCY bag….Paper on one side and clear on the other! What ever will people think?!?”