We meet as arranged and I am pleasantly surprised by how pretty you are. Not just pretty by also exuding a certain sensuality that I hadn't expected. Perhaps it's just that I haven't before met a woman so open with her sexuality, perhaps it's the slight bulge of suspender belt ties just above the hemline of your skirt.
I follow you up the stairs to the cafe you have in mind. Surely you are aware that I'm simply taking the opportunity to ogle your tightly clad arse as you climb. An added bonus is the waft of scent you trail behind - how alluring.
Of course I should do the manly thing and take the lead but I'm in your thrall and follow somewhat dumbly as we approach the sparsely occupied cafe and find a table. You turn to me and I gather my wits enough to suggest a table set a discreet distant apart from most of the others, shielded from fellow customers by a short partition and just cosy enough for subtle intimacy.
I draw back a chair and suggest you sit with your back to the partition, then sit myself down opposite. I suppose the done thing is to sit alongside one's partner but I much prefer to look at the person with whom I am about to share a pleasurable conversation.
Though you are dressed conservatively, you look radiant. A shortish skirt but not so short as to be crude, a light blouse with a delicate cornflower pattern and a small pendant hanging from your neck, pointing down to the cleavage which hints at the sumptuous softness of your breasts. You place your hands surprisingly demurely on the table top and I m drawn to the slender beauty of your wrists. Though you are by no means skinny, your wrists are delicate and I find myself suddenly longing to kiss them.
We begin to chat and I nervously tap the table top, every beat drawing my fingertips closer to your. You notice this and I spot your lips open as you give a little gasp and gently move your left hand closer to my right. I stop the tapping and stroke the outside of your hand with my small finger. At this touch we look into one another's eyes. I see in yours a reflection of the desire that must be so evident in my own.
The tea arrives; one pot, two cups and the usual assortment of sugar, milk etc. We act like business colleagues while the waitress sets everything down and I take a moment to lean back into my chair. Would you detect the subtle adjusting I have to perform in order to shift my growing erection to a more comfortable position in my trousers?
Once the waitress is gone I lean forward and we talk. You tell me about how and why you placed the ad that brought us together and I listen in rapt attention. Your cleavage draws my attention as the skin on your chest and neck has begun to flush in an oh-so delightful manner.
Having spoken you now lean back in your chair, taking a sip from your cup of tea and opening your legs just enough to give me a glance of your stocking tops and the soft warm flesh beyond.
How I love stockings. That gentle tautness and the enticing bulge at the top, where thigh escapes silk and points the way to the scented valley beyond.
Still leaning forward I begin my story - finding Lit, seeing your ad, exchanging emails, phone calls and here we are.
