Lora and I were meant to be having lunch together. I'd been looking forward to it for days. We met at my office and walked leisurely to one of my favorite haunts. We walked in silence, really, just enjoying what was a beautiful, spring-like day, except for the melting snow all over the ground. Holding hands, we both felt very relaxed and comfortable with ourselves. We weren't just holding hands. Not holding hands at all, but lightly playing with each other's hands. Running our fingers across the palms, in and out of the fingers, up and down the wrist. As if we were masturbating each other's hands.
Our lunch was not so silent but was still filled with glances, smiles, and quiet looks. We played an extended game of footsie under the table. Eating itself wasn't so easy, requiring that we break our touch on top of the table. It was obvious that we were both feeling extremely horny. Lora, because she always is when she has been by my office. Me, because I'd been thinking about her all day long. Both of us, since we'd had such incredible sex the day before, and fantasies and experiences shared then still filled our minds. And allusions filled our conversation.
We left, on fire, and walked to a nearby coffee shop. It's nothing very special, but the coffee's good, and it's close by, dark and romantic, in a way. We were knowingly torturing ourselves. What we both wanted to do was run for my office and fuck like bunnies. While we were walking, Lora could see the bulge in my pants, when my coat would fly open. She reached over and give me a little squeeze, when the coast seemed clear. I stopped her and pulled you towards me to kiss her. And let one arm fall under the veil of my coat and slide down her side, over her tummy, and across her pussy. And then, as quickly, we were walking again.
A couple of coffees and some dessert bought, we sat down at the little bar-like table stretching along the window. Here, we were side-by-side. We sat half-facing each other, our bodies forming a kind of shield against the outside world. Enough of a shield, anyway, that my hand could fall comfortably and naturally in Lora's lap, and stroke her upper thighs, on top, inside, being very careful occasionally to graze her lower stomach. I could tell by the look on her face that she knew just how excited I was getting. I knew my voice was getting husky. My movements weren't as fluid as they usually are. And that bulge in my trousers was all the more obvious. Not to everyone, but to Lora.
