CHAPTER EIGHT — STEPHANIE
I rejoin Philip, my face getting redder with each step as I get closer to him. I keep the pink thong tucked into the top of my dress.
When I reach him, he looks at me and then down at my hands. I wrap them around his neck.
"Did you do what I asked, sweetheart?"
I nod.
"Hand it over."
I look around furtively and then reach into my dress, pulling it out.
He laughs.
"Clever girl."
A smile erupts across my face. He puts it in his pocket.
"What are you going to do with it?" I ask quietly.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, and then winks.
Now it's my turn to laugh.
"Hey, how do you feel about taking a break and getting a drink?"
I nod.
"That sounds good."
We've been dancing for a while, and I'm getting dehydrated.
"Maybe just water for me."
"Of course, baby girl," he says.
He grabs my hand and pulls me towards the bar.
"One water, one Jack Daniel's on the rocks."
It might not be very feminist of me, but there's something hot about a man ordering for me, even if it's water.
"Thanks," I whisper.
"Of course, sweetheart," he replies.
We're sitting on stools facing the bar. The countertop is lower than most, hitting around the height of my rib cage and slightly above Philip's crotch.
Philip pulls my stool towards his so that we're sitting side by side, thighs touching.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me towards him so that I'm half on his stool, half on mine.
The bartender plops our drinks down, and Philip hands over his credit card. As the bartender rings up the purchase, Philip snakes a hand onto my lap, onto my knee, resting it there. I feel the butterflies in my stomach return, and a tingling sensation between my legs.
"Do you remember the word we agreed on?" he asks.
Again, he asks it at a volume that's above a whisper, but below normal, a volume that makes me nervous, but I don't think anyone can hear. I wonder if he does it on purpose.
I nod.
"Tell me what it is," he says.
"Cheeto," I say.
"Good girl," he says.
The first time Philip and I hooked up, we established a safe word: "Cheeto."
"Drink up," he says.
He lifts the water to my lips. I open my mouth immediately, and he pours the drink into my mouth. It feels surprisingly intimate and domineering. Him pouring a drink into my mouth, never something I thought I would find hot, but I do.
"Good girl," he says as I swallow the liquid.
I blush again, looking at the bartender. Did they hear that?
The fact that he asked me if I remember my safe word has thrown me for a loop. What is he planning to do?
He squeezes my right knee and begins to move his hand slowly up my right thigh. His thumb is in between my two legs, which are pressed tightly together.
When he reaches the hem of my dress, he pauses. He grips the material between his index finger and thumb, rubbing.
He sits there for a moment and just stares at me.
"You know how fucking perfect you are, right?" he asks.
I blush.
"If anything," he says, "I think sometimes you're too perfect. You might need to just let go a little. Do you agree?"
I bite my lower lip and nod.
"Use your words, baby girl."
I lean into him so that my lips are brushing his ear. I feel his body tense slightly, and a thrill runs up my spine. I like noticing the effect I'm having on him.
"Yes, sir," I murmur quietly.
As soon as the word "sir" tumbles out of my lips, his hand deftly releases the hem of my dress and slips in between my legs. It rests there for a second.
I pull back slightly, and he grabs the side of my face with his free hand and turns it towards him. We're inches apart. I can smell whiskey on his breath.
"Look at me," he says. "Don't look away until I tell you to."
Oh my God.
I stare into his bright blue eyes as his hand creeps slowly up my inner thigh until it reaches my pussy. I inhale through my nostrils. He smirks a little, and I feel my stomach flip-flop.
I feel his finger run up and down my slit, not entering me, just toying with me.
"Breathe," he says, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
I exhale and then rapidly breathe in, gulping air. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath.
When I inhale again, he slips a finger inside. This time I gasp out loud. He leans closer to me.
"Do you have any idea how wet you are?" he says. "Can you feel that?"
He begins to move his finger in and out of me slowly. I nod.
"I love how wet you get," he says.
He slips another finger in and continues to pump them in and out slowly.
With his thumb, he finds my clit and presses. Oh, God. I feel a delicious pressure between my legs and squeeze them tight as he begins to massage the sensitive area.
"Now act normal," he says as he turns to face the bartender. "Another?"
He downs his drink, and the bartender turns to make him one.
"She'll have another too," he says. "Drink," he says, looking at my glass. "It's important that you hydrate."
It's like he's getting increasingly bossy, and I can't say I hate it. I gulp down the liquid. If anything, it's making me have to pee, but that's also making the sensations between my legs more intense.
"Have you ever come in public?" Philip asks me.
He leans towards me and runs his thumb up my neck. I feel goosebumps on my skin. I shake my head.
"Well, there's a first time for everything."
The bartender returns with our drinks. I avoid making eye contact and look down at the countertop.
"Thanks," I murmur.
"Now drink up," he says. "I want you to drink that entire glass before we leave, okay?"
I nod.
"Good girl."
I start drinking, and he increases the pressure on my clit. My legs clamp together as my insides begin to pulse.
Oh my God.
"I'm going to—" I whisper.
Just when I feel my orgasm about to spill over, I hear a gruff voice interrupt us. My adrenaline spikes. I turn around. It's David. His eyes are glowering, and his jaw is clenched.
I've never seen him like this.
I glance behind David, looking for the woman he was with earlier. I don't see her anywhere. I wonder what happened to her. Did she leave early? Did he just ditch her?
Either way, David doesn't seem to care. At this moment, all of his energy seems to be focused on projecting pure venom onto Philip.
He looks at me and then at Philip, and directs what feels like pure hatred in Philip's direction as he takes a step closer towards us.
"What the hell is going on here?" he bellows at Philip.
I glance at Philip, who looks as surprised as I feel. Philip pulls his fingers out of me, and I quickly grab my dress, straightening it. Big mistake.
David catches the movement and his eyes dart down. Although Philip isn't fingering me anymore, David catches him moving his hand back to the counter. He knows what just happened.
"Outside," David bellows. "Now."
The End