I glance sideways at you, catch your eye. You are watching me. I know that look, it says “Here I am, Ma’am…”, it invites and challenges me, it waits.
I smirk at you, watch you blush. I know you want to look away now that you have caught my attention. Now that you have what you want you aren’t quite sure what to do with it.
I turn to face you and you hold your breath, steel yourself, shore yourself up. Oh my fucking god, so unbearably hot. It tugs at my cunt, makes my heart thump in my chest, makes my stomach lurch.
Your mouth lifts into a half smile, I watch your lips curl, you shift on the bar stool, your fingers plucking at your jeans, trying to hold my gaze.
“Another drink?” you ask, nodding at my empty glass.
I shake my head, shift slightly and slip off my seat. The move brings me six inches closer to you, I touch your knee, you inhale, not quite a gasp, then exhale slowly.
I tilt my head at you, your face turns into a question mark as I step closer. I apply some pressure to your knee with my thigh, make you widen your legs a little more, you spread them, give me room to step between them. I shake my head slightly, too wide, you shift again, trying to figure out what I want. I nod when you get it right.
I slowly scrunch my skirt up with my right hand, feeling it slip up over my knee, gathering the material in my fingers, it slides up my thigh until I have a handful of fabric in my hand and my right leg is exposed. I stand on my toes, my calves contracting, my stiletto heels lift an inch off the floor.
I take a step forward, my bare leg slipping between your denimed thighs, I slide my panty clad pussy along your leg, keeping the fabric of my skirt to one side, feeling the roughness of your jeans against my skin, through the silk at my crotch.
You make a strangled sound as I straddle your leg and slide forward against your thigh, I drop the skirt to conceal what I am doing, squirm against you, feel the heat of my pussy warming your leg. I grab a handful of your hair at the back of your head, to steady myself. I position myself on your thigh, and rock almost imperceptibly against you. You shuffle forward a little to give me better access, I know you want to pull me tight against you, I see your grip on the bar tense, your knuckles whiten.
I tighten my thigh and arse muscles to create some friction against you, a sensuous, slow, subtle movement… contracting and releasing, grinding hard and slow on your leg. My breathing changes, becomes deeper, heavy, as I shift slightly to get the angle and pressure I want, silk against denim, hot and humid, slick. You are crackling with energy, every muscle tight, I can feel your desire to push forward, to get more contact, I don’t have to look to know that your cock is hard, as if reading my thoughts you shift again, exhale through gritted teeth, make small sounds in the back of your throat.
I tighten my fist in your hair and tilt your head, bring your face close to mine, your mouth inches away, I breathe against you, watching your face. You strain against my grip to get at me, open your mouth slightly, your tongue slips out, wets your lips, I feel your strength, I hear what sounds like a whimper.
I am unhurried, pressing myself against you like you are some public masturbation tool placed there for my convenience. My movements are almost imperceptible, and I feel you trying to give me what I want, your breathing uneven, I wonder if your jeans are getting wet and resist the urge to slip my hand down to feel the spot where I am connected to you.
Finally I manoeuvre your head to one side awkwardly, forcing your ear close to my lips, my voice low, a whisper.
“Let’s go, boy.”
You lean your cheek against mine, your breathing quick and shallow, you moan softly.
I take that as a “yes Ma’am.”