Aperatif

Everything she thought she knew dissipated when she saw him. She tried to bring back to mind the picture she had built up over the months of chat and photographs but it was gone now, replaced entirely in her mind by the reality in front of her. She grasped at the old images, but with diaphanous ease they slipped away just beyond reach as dreams do on waking.

It wasn’t at all that he fell short of her expectations, or had misrepresented himself, but she had given her imagination free rein to fill in some of the gaps and there was a lurching gulf between what she had envisaged and the reality. But the envisaging had been so good; she’d played out this scene in her head so often since he’d told her of his taste for watching, and of how he’d love to watch her come. As the weeks passed she’d shared her thoughts about coming for him, somewhere hidden in plain sight. The fit of their kinks was so right that this meeting was a delicious inevitability.

She sat down on the bench opposite him as they’d planned. He’d already ordered and the food lay on the narrow table between them, though they both knew they weren’t here to eat. She did however, take a deep drink of wine in the hope it would steady her hands and her heart which she could hear pounding in her ears. They smiled their hellos; hungry anticipation was almost tangible around him, his eyes taking her in and already closely observing her reactions and movements.

In planning, his penchant had seemed like a weakness. The balance of power, she’d imagined would be in her favour, she knew she would come easily and she’d seen herself calling the shots, majestic and strong in the giving of this gift, him a grateful voyeur. But in the cold light of this busy lunchtime it was she was on the back foot. Him calm and planful, and she jumpy and skittish.

He spoke first;

“Are you ok? Are you ready?”

She nodded, with a half-smile and a deep breath to steel herself for what was to come.

“Let’s do this then”

She reached into her handbag for the tool she’d selected for the task, a small U-shape of sprung rubber she could discretely slip into herself under the table, one end inside her, gripping snugly on her G-spot, the other nestling in the folds around her clitoris. It slid into place easily, and she settled on the bench, readying the button on the remote. The cacophony of the restaurant surrounded them like an orchestra tuning up, the percussion of pots and pans from the open kitchen, scraping of chairs, and the discord of voices from base to soprano, each raised to be heard over the din. Noise wasn’t going to a problem; she just had to retain enough composure.

She looked at him, half expecting him to tell her to start, but he just waited. This was her choice, her action. If it were to happen she must take responsibility for it herself. She pressed the button.

Immediately the vibrations sparked, she visibly jolted, straightening her spine and twisting her shoulders. She focussed somewhere over his shoulder into the middle distance, away from the distracting lilt in his eyes which betrayed a smile that had not yet reached his lips. She fought with her breathing, shallow and catching, for control, blowing out through her lips in an O in an effort to centre herself. Then she slipped in to a familiar groove, the rippling pleasure gradually radiating into every part of her. The restaurant slipped out of focus and she regained confidence in her body, knowing again that she could rely on it to bring this fantasy home for them both. She allowed the sensations to seep and build, colour flooding her neck and chest. She leaned one shoulder against the wall as she could feel the apex approaching and closed her eyes, finding at last a way to block out the restaurant and disappear into herself.

“Hey, open your eyes. Stay with me.”

His voice was soft and encouraging, but it surprised her, everything that she’d fought to govern was shuffled and unbalanced again.

“Ride this a little…don’t come yet.”

He’d called it just right, 10 more seconds and she would have been in place from which she could no longer pull herself back. She wasn’t sure if she could now.

She straightened, looking directly at him now; she could see that he’d allowed that latent smile access from his eyes to his lips now. She liked his challenge; this is the moment they’d fantasised about, now was the time to relish it. If she could just hold on.

But the unrelenting buzz in her cunt had no respect of the change of pace that had been agreed above the table. She squirmed to find a way to diminish its impact. Leaning backwards and curving her spine so her weight was more on her bottom drove the vibrations deeper inside her, and leaning forwards pushed the vibe harder onto her clitoris. He observed her struggle closely, and reached to hold her hand.

“Hold on, you can do it, just a little more”

Beneath the table she raised her feet onto tiptoes to allow some space between the vibe and the hard bench. The muscles in her legs, tense and weak, trembled, she let them fall open slightly to rest against the insides of his thighs. The intimacy was intoxicating, he watched the fierce pleasure in her face, and felt her conflict through fingertips and thighs. She was wanton and vulnerable and delicately balanced on the edge of a precipice. Also, at the very edge of her capability.

“Go on. Come now.”

Her orgasm hung above the discord of the restaurant, like a single, pure note. She grasped hungrily on to it, allowing it free rein to resonate through her as if she herself were its instrument. It reverberated and conducted directly from cunt to brain through the taut strings of her spine, cutting through the fog like steel, through the noise and her misgivings, cleaving a clear trajectory back to herself. As she floated back down into herself, the quickness returning to her eyes, the smiling began, broad grins that tumbled into the sort of giggling that only comes from secrets shared and raw pleasure.

But within the laughing and the switching off of the button, she observed that he was twitchy and self-conscious, perhaps distracted in his seat now. Maybe she would, after all, get the chance to revel in the power and pride she’d earlier thought was to be denied her.

She took a well-deserved sip of wine and looked at the food.

“I’m ravenous, shall we eat?