We’d already flirted over dinner and had moved on to a trendy east London bar.
He strode to the front of the queue and ordered us some gin cocktails.
We sat in a corner and stared at each other. Without dropping his gaze, he took my drink and placed it carefully on the table.
He held my face in his hands.
He stroked the length of my neck, and kissed me with his mouth wide open – his tongue snaking in and out.
His other hand slid up my skirt and found the edge of my pants. I gasped.
“Let’s play a game,” he whispered. “Take off your underwear.”
I headed to the ladies and did what I was told.
As soon as I sat back down, he trailed his fingers further up my thighs – goosebumps rose across their entire length.
The element of danger was just oh-so thrilling.
As we sipped our drinks he inched his finger higher. I pretended not to notice.
I was wet. And he grinned when he felt it too.
He slid his finger in and out, while I tried to maintain conversation.
My breaths were getting shorter as he slid a second finger in.
“It’s illegal to perform sex acts in public,” he whispered.
My face was flushed and my legs were perceptively bouncing.
“Don’t you dare let us get caught,” he hissed.
This game was dangerous.
He did the same thing while we were in the Uber – with more urgency.
I could see the driver glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. He was wearing a skullcap. It would have been so disrespectful to come in his presence.
I bit my lip so hard to stop myself.
He sat on my bed. “Strip for me. Slowly.”
I bent down to take off my sandals.
He grabbed my bum and squeezed hard.
I stood up and loosened my belt. Unbuttoned my dress and let it fall to the floor.
His jeans strained against his erection.
I sat on his lap, my legs either side of his.
He put two of his fingers in my mouth and then pushed them inside me. Hard.