Written by Pentup47
27 Nov 2015
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5 minute read
MARK hovered with uncertainty in the doorway of his usual coffee bar. A large gaggle of noisy college students had virtually taken the place over, with almost every table occupied. Mark just wanted a quiet coffee. He was about to leave, when he spotted a corner table for two, at which an attractive blonde-haired young woman was sitting alone. He cautiously approached with his double espresso.
"Mind if I sit here - it's rather crowded today?"
She didn't even look at him. Just continued gazing out of the cafe window. "Sure".
Wearing an expensive black mackintosh, which contrasted with her beautifully-coiffeured blonde bobbed hair-do, she was certainly some 'looker', Mark decided. Posh too, judging by the voice. She sipped her herbal tea, pointing a crimson-varnished little finger at the ceiling. No gold band on the third finger. The air was positively suffused with the heady aroma of expensive French perfume.
"Do you work near here?"
Still she didn't look at her questioner. "Just around the corner."
She put down her empty cup on its saucer and turned to face Mark for the first time. "I kick arse." She gave a knowing half-smile.
"Sounds interesting. What does that entail?"
"Well... my official job title is 'Office Manager'. I work for the big firm of solicitors on Market Street. But the staff are such out-and-out wankers, that I'm forever having to chase them up to do anything. And what do you do?"
"I'm a writer. An impoverished writer, you might say."
She ran her eyes up and down Mark's shabby outfit: a threadbare tweed jacket and a faded, open-necked check shirt. "So I see." She checked an expensive wristwatch. "Ah well, back to the treadmill, I suppose."
"Couldn't you err... stay a few minutes more?"
She pursed her crimson lips into a perfect cupid's bow. "Would you like me to..."
"Would you like me to, Mark?"
"Very much so..."
"Very much so, Deborah." Mark decided to plunge straight in. "Tell me, what time do you finish kicking arse round the corner?"
"Five o'clock. Why?"
"Well, there's a cosy little wine bar I often visit on a Friday evening at the end of the High Street. I wondered if you'd care to join me there for a drink?"
"Provided you smarten yourself up a bit, yes. What's this wine bar of yours called?"
"I know it: down in the basement? Smoochy jazz music?"
"That's the place."
"OK. About 5,30pm?" Deborah stood up. Mark was impressed to see that this stylish young woman who he had just dated was almost six feet tall. She gave him a lovely farewell smile, dragging one hand languidly across his shoulders. "I'll see you there." And in a haze of expensive perfume she was gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mark had parked himself in one of the wine bar's private alcoves: a dimly-lit, brick-vaulted snug, set beneath the pavement above. On the pine table in front of him was a candle in an old wine jar and two bubbling glasses of champagne.
Suddenly, she was standing before him. "Mmmm... how did you know I like champagne?"
She had her expensive black raincoat draped over her arm. She wore a calf-length black pleated skirt, with a flame red, semi-transparent silk blouse, under which he could clearly see the outline of the flimsiest black half-cup bra. Deborah had a stunning figure.
He smiled up at her. "An educated guess. I didn't think boring old Sauvignon was good enough for such a piece of hot totty!"
Instead of taking the seat opposite him, the svelte young woman slipped down onto the cushioned seat beside him. "'Hot totty' eh? First time I've ever been called that!" She gently placed one hand on Mark's thigh. "I'm glad to see you've smartened yourself up a bit, Mark." She took the champagne glass with her spare hand. "Cheers!"
Mark felt her hand sensuously massaging his upper leg. He was very tempted to 'return the compliment'. But Deborah had read his mind.
Very matter-of-factly, she enquired: "Tell me, do you prefer hold-ups or stockings and suspenders, on your women? I couldn't make up my mind when I was changing at the office?"
"Oh, suspenders every time!"
"Good. Want to feel?"
Mark tentatively ran his hand over her skirt, until he came to the tell-tale bump of her suspender clip.
"Mmmmm... bit higher, please? Oh yes, that's lovely!"
They continued their silent, unobserved intimacy for several minutes. She stroked his thigh just below his semi-erect cock, while he homed in on the top of her panties, which were starting to get very damp. "I think I urgently need to visit the little girls' room!"
"Because I'm in danger of making a naughty puddle on this seat - that's why." She wriggled out from the bench, straightened her skirt and scooped up the two empty glasses. "Same again?"
Deborah returned after about five minutes, bearing two fresh glasses of champagne, with a broad grin on her face.
Much better. But I'm afraid I did something terribly wicked when I was in the Ladies. Shall I whisper it?"
She took a sip of champagne and then drew close to his ear. "Well, I was just padding my cunnie with a tissue in one of the toilets, when I felt the urge to frigg myself off with my vibrator. I just couldn't resist it! I had a simply glorious orgasm. Trouble is, I think I must have made a bit of a noise!"
"How do you know?"
"Because when I came out of the cubicle, there was a woman waiting to use it. She just smiled and said: 'That sounded nice!'"
"You naughty hot totty! Wish I'd been there!"
"Later, darling - back at your place. I might let you watch." She smiled demurely and fluttered her eyelashes. "I presume we are going back to your place?"
"Only if you'll stay the night?"
"The night! Darling, this is Friday evening! I was figuring on staying the whole weekend. In fact, we could set aside all day Sunday for fucking, if you like?"
"What a lovely idea. Let's go!"
~ ~ ~ TO BE CONTINUED ~ ~ ~