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“You should wrap things up so we can get out of here,” she said into Helen’s ear, her hand snaking around her Mistress’s thigh. “I wanna make out in the back of your car.”
They had taken a Towne Car there, driven by one of Helen’s chauffeurs. Monique wasn’t above rolling up the partition and giving her Mistress whatever she wanted in the backseat.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you got giddy.” Helen rubbed her hand on top of her girlfriend’s knee. “Give it another twenty minutes. We’ll wrap things up here and do whatever you want in the car.”
Twenty minutes was too long. The tingles of arousal filled Monique with impatience.I’ll show her to make me wait again.Firstdrawing out her pleasure that morning, and now this? Forget that! Monique was full of booze and ready to party.
While Helen resumed her conversation with someone across the table, Monique used the cover of darkness to slip her hand between her Mistress’s legs, brushing against her crotch.
Helen froze but did not interrupt her conversation. Monique grinned into the back of her other hand. Too easy.
Her skirt moved out of the way with little resistance. Monique rubbed her fingers against the silk of Helen’s underwear and bit her bottom lip at the scandal of what they did.
Only while intoxicated would she think taking her Mistress’s pleasure into her hand beneath a table feltindecent. Like she was a teenager. A freshman in college getting freaky with her sorority sister at a social meant for the brainy elite.Maybe that really happened.Whether it did or not, it wasn’t as good as now when Monique slipped her hand into Helen’s thong and stimulated her.
It was as if she did nothing if one went by the expression on Helen’s face. She was still laughing at one of Jem’s jokes and reassuring Gwyneth that she was a beautiful woman who could model for any designer in the world if that was her pursuit. The other people were either wrapped up in their conversations or too far away to ever notice what went on beneath the table.Always good to have a nice, public thrill. Alcohol made that more fun for Monique.
She worked her fingers up and down Helens’ slit, occasionally brushing against her clit until her Mistress stiffened in recognition. The woman had wielded the greatest strap-on in existence only a few hours ago, and was getting wet again from this? Monique had to contain a grin of self-indulgence. Helen was hot to the touch, and the thought of her taking Monique like she did that morning made those tingles in her body flow like a strong river, the only dam in its way the public around them. Nevertheless, Monique wasted no time increasing the pressure of her touch and moving her hand as quickly as she dared without calling attention to her actions.
Her hand was wet. When she glanced down she realized that Helen had casually parted her legs to accommodate hergirlfriend’s naughtiness. Yet she sat there so coolly, talking about dividends and how they related to a tasteless joke about strippers. The only time she showed any emotion was when Jem made yet another quip and incited her tablemate to laugh.
Oh, she was good. If Monique was the queen of poker faces, then Helen Warner was the goddess. Perhaps there were other things Helen could teach her outside of the bedroom.
Not today, however.
Monique rubbed the bottom of her palm against Helen.Let’s take this as far as I can.She would do it. She would make Helen come right there in front of everyone. What was going through Helen’s head right now? The sheer amount of power she held in front of these people? Who else could have this kind of service from their sub? All the others at the table had both hands above the surface, holding drinks, stroking shoulders, and twiddling thumbs as they waited for something to happen. Something’s happening beneath this table. If Monique were feeling really frisky, she would blow into Helen’s ear. That would make her come!
To her disappointment, Helen put her hand around Monique’s wrist and yanked her hand away as her thighs began to shudder.Darn. Monique retracted while Helen covertly fixed her skirt. Monique still had her wet hand, though, and she placed it against Helen’s thigh.
In the middle of a conversation, Helen cleared her throat and sat up straight in her seat. “Excuse me.” She tugged on her blouse before standing up, probably to conceal the vibrations of desire rolling through her. “Waitress seems to have forgotten our round of drinks. Monique?”
Helen escorted her away from the table – and nowhere near the main bar. Instead, she knocked on a VIP room door, and when there was no response, she pulled Monique in after her.
“Cute,” Helen said, pushing Monique against the nearest wall and barricading her with both arms. Monique shrank in front of her, keeping a grin of accomplishment to herself. “What do you think you were doing back there, hm?”
Her breath was delightfully hot against Monique’s cheek, and she was so close, so intruding that Monique's legs weakened. “Call it a mild attempt at reading your mind. Are you telling me that you didn’t want that… Ma’am?”
“In front of all those people?”
“With all due respect, Ms. Warner, we’re in a sex club.”
“And I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“Didn’t you like it?”
She gripped Helen’s blouse sleeves, attempting to pull her down for a kiss. Instead, Helen grabbed both of Monique’s arms and held them above her head, pinning her wrists to the wall as her breath increased in intensity. “I should punish you for being so out of line.”
Yes, you should.Monique pushed against the wall, her breasts straining within her dress again. “Please.”
“Please, what?”
Monique ran her tongue against both of her lips. “Punish me, please, Ma’am.”
“I should make you get down on your knees and service me. Finish the job you started.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“No, don’t call me Ma’am.” Helen’s grip tightened around Monique’s wrists. “Call me Mistress.”
