She slips one shoe off under the table, stroking her toes up the hem of his trousers. She watches his eyes for any sign of reaction to her touch, and then decides to continue when he doesn't even look up from his scotch. Her stocking-clad toes move up over the inner side of his ankle, her fingertip tracing circles around the rim of her half-empty glass of shiraz, lifting the finger to be captured between the fullness of her ruby-glossed lips. S he intends to subtly bombard him with multiple teases -- nothing so blatant that it would be considered unladylike even in such an establishment, but just enough to eventually urge a reaction from him.
Wanting to draw his attention upwards, she pulls the finger from her lips slowly, holding tight against the end of the digit so that it exits with an audible 'pop' -- the sound punctuated by her toes wriggling further up his trouser leg, snaking up and stroking along the well-defined muscle.
Any other woman would have been confused or even hurt by his sudden silence. But, most likely enhanced by her slightly inebriated state, she accepted it as a challenge from him...an unspoken gauntlet thrown in her direction to attempt to influence him with her own imagination in an effort to induce his desire to continue the evening.
She pulled her foot from within the leg of his pants, leaning back in her chair to remove a single tortoiseshell clasp that confined her long auburn waves at the base of her neck, swinging her head and raking her perfectly-manicured nails against her scalp and along the length of her mane, drawing it out from her head only to let it slip, strand by strand, through her fingertips.
Her head still back, she felt her eyes close. And, as her lids shrouded her vision into darkness, she felt a wave of intoxication rumble through her mind, causing a momentary sensation of vertigo to consume her, threatening to throw her from the security of her well-padded seat.
She knew she'd had too much to drink, at that point, to be able to keep up with him the rest of the evening. So, sliding from her upholstered perch, she mumbled to him that she'd be right back. Once fully upright next to their small table, she feigned the need to adjust a strap on her shoe, bending at the waist, her full, ripe hips swelling against the seams of her slightly-too-short skirt, offering him a view of her well-rounded ass. Then, she stood again, and headed to the bar without a glance in his direction, with the intent of obtaining a very large glass of ice water.
Instead of returning immediately to the table, she made a short detour, then stopped to retrieve the ample glass on her way back, shivering as the frigid condensation tingled against her palm. She stopped at his side before taking her own seat, dropping something into his lap -- her now-saturated white silk panties. As she slid her bottom over the patched leather seat, she knew he had to be aware of her aroma wafting up from the small bit of material she'd given to him -- she was aware of the essence herself. And yet she waited quietly, dipping her fingers into the water glass, retrieving a single flat bit of ice, putting it to her lips, and audibly sucking it inward.
Finally, some movement on his part...she hears first, a clinking of ice in his glass, his dark eyes lifting to hers. And yet, that same, dark visage consumes his features. But at least she has his attention. Somehow, he's conveyed to her that he knows her panties are off -- and she intends on using that to her advantage.
She trusts him enough that she knows she can get away with almost anything in this seedy establishment, that he'd keep her safe should anyone around them want in on the action and get out of hand. So she lifts a hand, popping open a button or two, until her ample cleavage is well-evident.
Then, retrieving another sliver of ice, she slips one inside her bra to rest, and melt, against her nipple, the thick pink flesh hardening immediately, the melted liquid permeating through bra and blouse, creating a lovely view of the haloed bud within. Performing the same act on the other side, she soon presents him with the two hard-tipped globes, every subtle change of color evident through the now-translucent material.
She met his cool gaze evenly, reaching blindly within the glass to snag a larger bit of ice, making certain his eyes followed her fingers as they lowered the frozen orb down further and further. She knew he'd realize where she would deposited the melting mass when her head fell back and her lips parted in a hushed whisper. She forced it deep within the heated recesses of her womanhood, now dripping and swollen with her arousal.
As she opens her eyes, the chill of melting ice within her recesses forcing a smile to her lips, she finds his glass half-lifted, frozen in time as he realizes what she's done. "Would you like to see how quickly it melts?" she purrs, standing to walk over to his side of the table then sliding her ample hips up onto it, spreading her legs, anchoring her heels against the arms of his chair and bringing the water glass around for him.
The glass now deposited at her side to enable her to brace her hands behind her, she leans away from him, her linen skirt lifting higher and higher up her thighs, her wanton, swollen sex on full display to him and anyone else around who might enjoy such debauchery.
"Not naughty enough yet?" she mewls, moving back to rest against her elbows. She reaches up with one hand, gently urging the crystal tumbler from his hand, raising it to her own lips...the fluid clinking around as frozen, planetary masses swim about in its amber depths. "One might think that there would only be one way to improve upon the perfection of a 25-year-old Macallan single malt," she mentioned, almost nonchalantly...and then, reaching with her free hand to spread her cunt wide open, she poured the frigid remnants from the glass into the depths of her sex.
She watched the interest blazing in his eyes, but wanted to push just a bit more. Urging the skirt further up her hips until it lie nestled securely around her waist, she slowly lifted her hips, watching him slide knowingly down into his seat and scooting closer. Clamping her muscles tight, she lifted her leg to rest her ankle against his shoulder, and smiles as his lips opened against the flesh of her calf. She released only a trickle, the now-viscous fluid running down along her muscular thigh, past her knee, then into his awaiting mouth.
She shivered, watching as each amber drop clung jealously to her flawless skin on its journey downward to quench and sate its anxious recipient, her body aflame with need in response to his ravenous consummation of her taste as it comingled with the precious, expensive whiskey.
Suddenly, her reverie was interrupted by the sensation of his warm, wet muscle, lapping up the expanse of her skin. The rich taste of whiskey coupling with her flesh hot on his tongue, he brushed his lips gently over her skin, stealing the droplets before they had finished their journey, inhaling the potent scent of those that had evaporated from her flesh.
Her hips shivered in their delight, her toes curling as his mouth rose further and further up the inside of her calf, and then her thigh, the remaining liquid bubbling out from her swollen, fleshy curtains, drooling out onto the table underneath her, beckoning him with irresistable invitation.
She lowered her ankle from his shoulder, perching it on the edge of the table, aided by bent knee and joined equidistant on the other side of her spread womanly wiles, his tongue ever nearing her epicenter. She lifted her hands to cup the saturated material of her blouse, tweaking the swollen, bud-tipped peaks, moaning as she writhed in wanton invitation before him.
He paused only momentarily, the very tip of his tongue perched at the apex of her sex, his eyes dark and foreboding. "Please," she panted, her evident need laced through her vocal chords, her voice hoarse with want. And yet, she did not move, knowing that in forcing his hand, she would induce his withdrawal. So, pulsing with desire, she waited.
And then, he penetrated her, luxuriating in the essence of expensive liquor still permeating her fleshy folds, stabbing his intrusive muscle down into the depths of her need, feeling her tighten around the girth of his tongue as if she could suck the fleshy lover deep into her recesses. He angled his head slightly, his nose dipping against the erect, proud nub of her exposed clit, reveling in the scent of her.
She could hold back no longer, having teased him for such a time that she abandoned herself to his ministrations, spewing her essence out to meet his waiting mouth. He swallowed her hungrily, sucking the viscous fluid from her very womb, intent on keeping her bucking and squirming against him for as long as possible. Neither of them were aware of the small gathering grouped around the table, watching in amazement at the wanton indulgence of the couple.
Finally, he withdrew his tongue from within her, lapping gently at her still-spasming folds, then moving up her shuddering form to press his lips to hers, sharing the mixture of woman and whiskey into her waiting mouth...his hands stroking along her sides, willing her body to calm against his.