table.
I reach for it and jump as I feel his hand clench around my ankle. His hold
loosens gradually and I feel his hand slide up and around my leg, stroking my
calf.
“This is a declaration of property
tax transfer,” Drake says. His left hand is to my knee now and I see he is
calmly sipping his martini with his right hand. “Basically it indicates that
all taxes paid on 10133 S. Menard Avenue will be in your name and in Devin’s
name. He will need to sign as well.”
“What about mortgage?” I ask. I feel
his hand graze over my knee and onto my thigh. The hem of my dress is hiked up
pretty far. Any farther and it becomes a shirt, though some might argue that
it already was before Drake did anything to it.
Drake pulls my leg so that I am
practically lying down at the table. Lucky for us there are curtains. I
wonder how much can be seen as the curtains aren’t exactly opaque, and the
thought intrigues and excites me. I feel his hand slide against the edge of my
panties which are officially soaked. He takes his hand and pushes his fingers
onto my clit. My lips part and I gasp and am about to moan, but he puts his
drink down and puts his finger on his lips and says “Shhh.” I comply and smile
slightly.
“The house is paid off already.
The taxes are about six thousand per year, give or take. We can appeal those
since they just raised them. But other than maintenance and property tax, you
don’t owe anything.”
His thumb slides inside of me and the
knuckle of his middle finger presses on my clit. I grip the pillow on either
side of me as though I might float away. I realize I’m holding my breath and
it enhances what I’m feeling below my waist. The waves of pleasure mount
within me and I close my eyes and imagine how I want Drake to be mounting me
later on when we get out of this place. I am close. Suddenly my orgasm comes in
an electric surge and I hear a demure voice say, “Would you care for another
drink?” I shoot to a sitting position, bang both of my knees under the table
and tip my drink directly into my lap. Chaos ensues. Drake obviously has to
disengage his hand which is soaked, and thankfully everything is masked with
the smell of my orange blossom martini. Napkins are shoved in my direction.
Apologies are barked at me. All I can do is sit and allow myself to be blotted
and consoled because I am completely and utterly numb. Drake is laughing
somewhat maniacally, and even the dirty look I shoot his way doesn’t suppress
his ability to find the situation ridiculous.
Our waitress discounts our drinks
because she feels guilty about how I spilled everything all over myself. I
actually consider it my fault, but keep my mouth shut. It’s as though I
contributed to the bill in some way – drinks on me! Literally. My dress is
still somewhat damp from the drink and my legs are somewhat damp from what
Drake did to me over dinner. We stand and wait for the valet to bring Drake’s Mercedes.
Drake looks at me and chews on the tip of his thumb and grins while I smoke. I
flush from cheeks to chest and decide that if I wanted him before, I wanted him
ten times more right now. Kate isn’t here to do the dirty work for me, and for
once I’m truly grateful.
In his car Drake drives fast and is
silent, unlike the ride to Crimson. I don’t know where we are going and don’t
really care. “Take your dress off,” he tells me, watching me twisting the damp
hem in an attempt to dry it off. “We can find you something dry at my place.”
I comply, pulling the once-soft yellow fabric over my head and toss the ruined
thing on the floor. I didn’t wear a bra. It’s odd that I’m not self-conscious
in front of a man I barely know, but he did just finger me in a restaurant and
I dance in a cage for a living, so I guess it makes a little bit of sense.
Drake pulls into a parking garage
and parks between a Mini Cooper and a
I reach for it and jump as I feel his hand clench around my ankle. His hold
loosens gradually and I feel his hand slide up and around my leg, stroking my
calf.
“This is a declaration of property
tax transfer,” Drake says. His left hand is to my knee now and I see he is
calmly sipping his martini with his right hand. “Basically it indicates that
all taxes paid on 10133 S. Menard Avenue will be in your name and in Devin’s
name. He will need to sign as well.”
“What about mortgage?” I ask. I feel
his hand graze over my knee and onto my thigh. The hem of my dress is hiked up
pretty far. Any farther and it becomes a shirt, though some might argue that
it already was before Drake did anything to it.
Drake pulls my leg so that I am
practically lying down at the table. Lucky for us there are curtains. I
wonder how much can be seen as the curtains aren’t exactly opaque, and the
thought intrigues and excites me. I feel his hand slide against the edge of my
panties which are officially soaked. He takes his hand and pushes his fingers
onto my clit. My lips part and I gasp and am about to moan, but he puts his
drink down and puts his finger on his lips and says “Shhh.” I comply and smile
slightly.
“The house is paid off already.
The taxes are about six thousand per year, give or take. We can appeal those
since they just raised them. But other than maintenance and property tax, you
don’t owe anything.”
His thumb slides inside of me and the
knuckle of his middle finger presses on my clit. I grip the pillow on either
side of me as though I might float away. I realize I’m holding my breath and
it enhances what I’m feeling below my waist. The waves of pleasure mount
within me and I close my eyes and imagine how I want Drake to be mounting me
later on when we get out of this place. I am close. Suddenly my orgasm comes in
an electric surge and I hear a demure voice say, “Would you care for another
drink?” I shoot to a sitting position, bang both of my knees under the table
and tip my drink directly into my lap. Chaos ensues. Drake obviously has to
disengage his hand which is soaked, and thankfully everything is masked with
the smell of my orange blossom martini. Napkins are shoved in my direction.
Apologies are barked at me. All I can do is sit and allow myself to be blotted
and consoled because I am completely and utterly numb. Drake is laughing
somewhat maniacally, and even the dirty look I shoot his way doesn’t suppress
his ability to find the situation ridiculous.
Our waitress discounts our drinks
because she feels guilty about how I spilled everything all over myself. I
actually consider it my fault, but keep my mouth shut. It’s as though I
contributed to the bill in some way – drinks on me! Literally. My dress is
still somewhat damp from the drink and my legs are somewhat damp from what
Drake did to me over dinner. We stand and wait for the valet to bring Drake’s Mercedes.
Drake looks at me and chews on the tip of his thumb and grins while I smoke. I
flush from cheeks to chest and decide that if I wanted him before, I wanted him
ten times more right now. Kate isn’t here to do the dirty work for me, and for
once I’m truly grateful.
In his car Drake drives fast and is
silent, unlike the ride to Crimson. I don’t know where we are going and don’t
really care. “Take your dress off,” he tells me, watching me twisting the damp
hem in an attempt to dry it off. “We can find you something dry at my place.”
I comply, pulling the once-soft yellow fabric over my head and toss the ruined
thing on the floor. I didn’t wear a bra. It’s odd that I’m not self-conscious
in front of a man I barely know, but he did just finger me in a restaurant and
I dance in a cage for a living, so I guess it makes a little bit of sense.
Drake pulls into a parking garage
and parks between a Mini Cooper and a
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