I was lost in rapture. I stood, my back against the door watching her writhe on the table. She used slender fingers tipped with magenta nails to stroke against the front of her satin panties sensuously. The breathy sighs escaping her pouting lips assaulted my sex as surely as if she knelt at my feet licking my pussy.
My flesh heated and my pussy throbbed, almost as a reflex my own fingers sneaked inside my knickers to touch myself, registering the sensation of the silky underwear I was also wearing. They contrasted with the sporty thong I’d normally choose because nothing was normal about this situation. I had never seen Angela without her clothes, but I had imagined it countless times since last night. It made me dripping wet, as I imagined the hot lesbian sex we could have together.
Rewind to yesterday in the Queen’s Head. I was pulling pints and unloading hot, clean glasses from the dishwasher, my usual Thursday night. A young woman was sitting at the bar with a large glass of red wine, which she was sipping slowly while trying not to repeatedly check her phone. She looked beautiful as always, but tonight there was something more formal about how she’d put herself together. Her long chestnut hair hung in waves, framing her pale complexion while those rosebud lips, adorned with a subtle gloss, looked so kissable.
I watched her as I served drinks and entered orders on the till, she seemed vulnerable without her girlfriends. We hadn’t done much more than nod and smile in the past, but when there was a lull in customers I moved down the bar to ask if she was alright. She seemed startled at first, then offered me a crooked smile.
“Yeah fine,” she blew out a sigh. “Guess I’ve been stood up.”
“That sucks,” I acknowledged. “I’m about to grab a cigarette break, did you wanna join me and talk?”
It was a gamble I knew, but those who don’t try, don’t get. I saw her wrestle with her thoughts, probably wanting to go home to nurse her wounded pride. To my surprise, she nodded and slipped off the barstool. I smiled and my heart flipped as I lifted the hinged section of the bar for her to come through and join me out back, in the staff courtyard.
It’s tidy outside where all the empty bottles get stacked, but a bit basic. There are two foldable plastic chairs and I sank gratefully into the nearest to give my feet a rest. As she sat down too, I pulled cigarettes and lighter from my apron pocket and offered her one.
“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” she smiled.
I...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Posy Churchgate
I love Posy’s stories so much. This was hot!