After a quick shower and a change of clothes, you head over to pick Rebecca up. She's waiting for you, in a short red dress that has you shifting uncomfortably in your seat as she slides into the car next to you.
"Hi," she says, leaning over to give you a peck on the cheek.
"You look amazing," you say by way of a greeting.
"You're not looking so bad yourself." She runs an appreciative eye from your neatly combed hair down to your shirt-and-trousers ensemble.
You pull out of the driveway. "So where are we headed?"
She tells you the address and you begin to drive. It's a stylish new restaurant that just opened about a week ago. You make small talk along the way, asking her what it's like working in IT. It's not easy, she says, being in a department dominated by men; despite being one of the best technicians in the department, she often gets overlooked. You hasten to reassure her that you've definitely noticed her, both as a consummate IT professional and as a gorgeous woman.
"Oh my, cute and sensitive both." She raises an eyebrow, sliding a slender hand over your trousered thigh. "Let's see if you can keep that up."
You arrive at the restaurant and are ushered towards your seats. You're seated towards the back, tucked away in a fairly private corner. Rebecca watches you from across the table as you peruse the menu.
"I hear the steak is particularly good," she says.
You're just looking through the menu for the steak when you feel something rubbing against the crotch of your trousers. You look up; Rebecca is the picture of innocence. You're about to say something when the waiter arrives.
Rebecca's feet are remarkably flexible. She's somehow able to wrap her toes around your straining member, almost like a hand, a move that has you struggling to restrain a gasp. You shoot her a glare across the table, but she only smiles.
The waiter, by now, is looking slightly confused. "Do you need more time?" he asks.
Rebecca is quick to reply. "Oh, no, we've decided." She looks at you with a sly grin. "Haven't we?" She continues to watch as you stutter and stumble through the order, all the while rubbing and stroking with her talented toes. The waiter, no doubt aware of what's happening, leaves without comment, but shoots you a discrete thumbs up as he turns to go.
Finally, Rebecca removes her feet, leaving you to adjust the uncomfortable bulge in your trousers. "I'm going to get you for that," you say.
Rebecca raises her napkin and drops it deliberately under the table, all the while looking you straight in the eye. "Oops," she says, and then, when you don't immediately respond, "Aren't you going to get my napkin for me?"
"What, now?" You look around; your table is quite secluded, and it's unlikely anyone would notice. Unless, of course, the waiter comes back. |