Check, please.

The waitress took us to a small secluded booth in the back of the restaurant, and my love slid in beside me.  Handing us dinner menus, the waitress took our drink orders and left.  Almost instantly, I felt my lover’s hand on my left leg, her touch light and gentle but firm.  Instinctively, I put my hand on top of her hand to stop her forward motion toward my crotch.  She looked over at me, and whispered, “I asked for this table for a reason, now please remove your hand from mine.”

 My heart dropped into my stomach on those words, and her hand continued their forward journey of exploration.  My mind remembered our conversation of a few weeks’ earlier, and how she had said that, under the right circumstances, she wasn’t against public yet private teasing.  I had a feeling I was going to find out how far she would go uninterrupted.

As our waitress returned with our drinks and set them before us, I found myself wondering if she could see my love’s hand on my inner thigh, her fingers having stopped a mere inch from the seam of my jeans.  I was pretty sure that the tablecloth covered us and I did not want to look down and draw attention, so I tried to maintain eye contact with the waitress as she told us the dinner specials.  As soon as she turned and walked away, Coll’s hand rubbed across that seam, her fingers moving it back and forth; I could tell she was searching through my jeans, and my panties, for my clit.

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