I enter the bar where we've arranged to meet, and shake the snow from my hair and coat. It's packed in the bar on this cold night, so my eyes quickly scan the crowd for your face. I think I spot you at the bar, so I make my way through the crowd, unbuttoning my coat as I go. Your back is to the bar, your eyes on the door and the crowd, so you spot me squeezing past people to get to you.
You have my beer in your hand, waiting for me. I finally get past the last person and we're face to face, eye to eye. You stand and we give each other a hug. You offer me your bar stool, but I decline, saying I wouldn't be comfortable sitting anyway, given what I'm wearing. Your eyes roam down my body and see that I'm wearing what I promised: black skirt, not tight or a mini, but it's flared a little at the knees, and there's a slit up the middle, dangerously high. Given the weather outside, I've worn my knee-length black leather boots that fit snugly on my calves. You sit back down. We make friendly small talk like two people on a blind date might make.
The movement of the crowd forces me to stand closer to you, so eventually I'm standing nearly pressed against you, between your parted legs, which is fine, because the din of the crowd means we have to talk almost directly into each other's ears. It doesn't seem to take long before the contact of our bodies and feeling the other person's lips and breath against our cheeks makes us look knowingly into each other's eyes. We stop talking for a while, and I just enjoy knowing that you're likely as turned on as I am. You slide forward on the bar stool a little, moving your feet from the rings on the bottom of the stool to the floor, so that you're standing and leaning against the stool more than you're sitting on it. A guy squeezes through the crowd, inadvertently pushing me into you, and your arm goes under my coat and around me quickly, naturally, and you hold me to you. You push against me a little with your hips, and I can feel your erection through your jeans, through my skirt, against my hip. I look in your eyes, as if to say, "I did that?"
No one can see under my coat, so your hand moves lower, from the small of my back to my ass, and you hold me against you. Looking into your eyes, I tell you point blank that I want you, and you close your eyes as the words escape my lips. You don't need to say it back; it's evident enough from the erection you are pushing against me that you want me, too.
"Are you wearing theβ"