Felicity felt a hand settle on her thigh under the table and move stealthily under the hem of her black dress.
“Tell me what really happened?” Natasha said sternly. “I really need to know!”
Felicity gave a little gasp as the hand moved to her inner thigh. Was the beautiful Natasha really going to try to make love to her right there in the restaurant? And what should Felicity say now about Ella and the night of passion about which Natasha, somehow, seemed already to be aware?
Felicity felt that strong hand move to touch her panties. She widened her big blue eyes and playfully reprimanded Natasha in a whisper: “What are you doing, Natasha, I mean really!”
“I know you want it,” Natasha whispered back. “So tell me about the red-haired woman!” (That lovely rolled ‘R’ again). “What is her name?”
“Her name is Ella, Ella Jamieson,” Felicity said, shocked at her own willingness to speak the truth here and wanting, wishing that hand to push against her panties under the table.
“She made love to me that night!”
“I see,” said Natasha, raising that eyebrow again and toying now with the elastic at the top of Felicity’s panties. She pulled it out and twanged it back against Felicity’s skin, as if to punish her for the infidelity.
“Ouch!” Felicity whispered.
“And was she as good as me?”, Natasha enquired.
Ah, the competitive nature of a tennis player! What scores should she attribute: maybe ‘forty thirty’! Felicity allowed herself a little smile. But somehow she could not seem to free herself from the kind of truth drug the beautiful Russian was, bizarrely, administering with her inquisitional eyes and her inquisitive hand.
“No, she was not as good as you,” Felicity replied in a whisper. “But she was still very good!”
Natasha smiled a half smile. Felicity could not easily interpret the smile and, as an experiment, she added:
“I mean, she was very, very good!”
Ouch! Felicity felt the tight elastic of her panties snap back against her belly once more.
“I see!” Natasha said coldly.
So she WAS jealous! ‘Her star’ was human after all! It all felt rather delicious, and a good reason to go into a little more detail.
“You see, she was quite gifted with her hands.”
Natasha pushed her hand inside Felicity’s panties at this point and began to stroke her pussy.
“I’m wet now,” said Felicity playfully, “but I was even wetter then!”
Suddenly, Natasha thumped the table. It was quite a noise and the force of her fist made the cutlery jangle. Several people looked round.
“Waitress!” Natasha called out. “This champagne is second-rate. Bring me another bottle!”
The elegant Thai waitress came over: “But you’ve already drunk half of it, madam!” she said, surprisingly assertive.
“But it’s still second-rate”, Natasha blurted out.
The waitress looked over at Felicity as if to test her stance on the issue.
“You are very pink, madam,” the waitress said, “are you OK?”
“Oh yes thank you, my dear!” Felicity said, thinking this might be another opportunity to make Natasha jealous. “It’s really kind of you to ask. What’s your name?”
“My name is Sangwan, like ‘sang’ in singing and then ‘W A N’.”
“What a pretty name, Sangwan!” Felicity said softly, widening her eyes and smiling. “Are you married?”
“Not yet madam!”
“Well, a pretty girl like you, I’m sure you soon will be.”
The waitress bowed a little and smiled: “You’re too kind!”
“If you give me your number,” Felicity continued, “I will have a think about a nice partner for you!” So saying, she pulled a pen and a piece of notepaper from her handbag and handed them to the waitress. Without hesitating, the waitress wrote her name and number.
“I might even offer myself!” Felicity added with a little laugh.
The waitress smiled shyly and touched her own black shiny hair with just a hint of flirtation: “Thank you, madam, I am waiting your call!”
Natasha looked angry and Felicity knocked her own fork onto the floor. "Could you pick that up for me?", she said. "It's under the table."...
About Paris Rivera
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Published October 27, 2012
by Amaldio Books.
Erotica, Literature & Fiction.