The first one was just for coffee. Well, a late afternoon tea to be exact. I had come over straight from work. Chic pantsuit, heels, stacks of progress reports in my portfolio. I had just come from the latest PTA meeting and was in no mood to be messed with. Probably not the best mindset to meet a prospective Dom in but he seemed unfazed. In fact, his eyes twinkled at me when I peppered him with questions.
“You are very thorough,” he said. “Very intelligent. You’ve done your homework.”
I grimaced and he laughed. “Maybe not the best phrase, I admit. But it’s refreshing. I know exactly where you stand.”
I relaxed. He wasn’t trying to squirm away under my vetting. In fact, it seemed to invigorate him. I ordered another tea and a sandwich. His eyes twinkled again.
An hour later we planned to meet for brunch over the weekend. He gave me a big hug and a kiss on my hand that sent flutters to my ankles. Could it be? I thought, driving home. Could something finally be real?
I dressed carefully on Saturday morning. He had texted me each day with no sexual overtones and deserved something sexy as a reward. I brought out my new garters and stockings, black heels, and a close-fitted dress that came just barely to my knees. The woman in the mirror looked good. Confident. Ready for a Dom. I wondered if he would notice, if it would mean anything to him.
I met him in the lobby and fluttered inwardly. He was dressed to the nines, somehow taller than I remembered, and very charming. A kiss on the hand, a touch at the small of my back, and I floated toward our table. It was in a corner, cozy and separated from the rest of the busy room. I sat across from him and rubbed my legs on each other. The smooth feeling there and the naked skin above always did something to me.
He leaned forward intently.
“You look very sexy today,” he informed me. “Even more so than last time.”
I blushed and looked down at my napkin. “O, that was just a work outfit. I put in extra effort for…uh…when I’m off. Not at work. On the weekends.” I twisted my napkin. What the fuck did I just say? That had made no sense.
“Well, I’m happy to see you on the weekend,” he said. “Perhaps we should make this a standing date if you are going to dress like this.” The blush crept up my neck. “And those heels, stop hiding them.” He got up and angled my chair out and toward him so my legs were visible. “That’s better,” he said, sitting down again. I noticed my chair was also much closer to his.
He ordered for us both while we chatted and laughed. I kept my legs crossed but stretched out in front of me. His eyes were on them frequently and it almost felt like they grew an inch with each glance. I shifted in my seat, feeling the lace of the stockings through my dress. That and his eyes made me sit up even straighter. Conversation wore on and I realized we hadn’t even mentioned vetting. There was so much more to talk about yet…I sensed that he was measuring me up the entire time.
The table had long since cleared and he leaned back in the chair almost carelessly. He looked at me, up and down, and I fell silent.
“Uncross your legs,” he said quietly, unmoving in the chair. I did so and draped the napkin forward onto my lap.
“Move the fucking napkin,” in the same quiet voice. I felt wetness gush at the order and took a deep breath. He leaned forward abruptly.
“You dressed differently today,” he said. “Why is that?”
“Well, I knew we were meeting at a really nice place and I wanted to fit in…” My voice trailed away as he put a hand on my knee. The flutters turned into quakes. Then the hand traveled to my inner knee. I watched it as if it were a snake curling up my body.
“It wasn’t about the restaurant. You’re wearing stockings,” he said. The hand traveled up, warm and inviting, barely brushing the exposed skin and catching on a garter. I gulped and looked around. Of course his body was between me and the entire room. No one could see what was happening. Fingertips began caressing me, just slightly above the lace, and I gasped.
“I could tell when you walked in,” he said, capturing my eyes. “I could tell by your posture and your stride. Almost a completely different woman than from before. Why is that?”
“Uhhhhh…” I cast around for words. His fingers were tracing small circles on my thigh. “I…uh…feel sexy when I wear stockings. And I…wanted to look sexy for you.” I finished in a whisper, my face heating up in yet another blush.
His hand traveled up to rest on the edge of my panties. Still staring me in the eyes. He wouldn’t let me go.
“You’ve never been owned,” he stated. “You’ve worn these for others but have never been owned. No one has even seen them, have they?” I vigorously shook my head.
“No, I’ve worn them just for myself. To try and feel sexy. Think about what it would be like…” His hand smoothed over my panties and then rested on my other thigh. “And if you would like them…I mean I hoped…”
He smiled and withdrew his hand, laid it back on my knee on top of my skirt. I looked at it for a second. I let him touch me! My mind shouted. And I loved it.
“I do like them,” he said. There was a kind hotness in his voice. “And I want to see them. On you and off of you. I would be privileged if you would consider me.”
I stared at him. Me consider him. Everyone else said it the other way around and made it sound like they were doing me a favor.
“You are a find,” he said, barely above a whisper. “Smart. Assertive. Organized. Vibrant and sexy. Obedient.” My head swam. No one had ever used those words to describe me. “I want to see you again, as soon as possible.”
I met his eyes and he didn’t look away. In fact, he seemed to relax even more.
(Custom post for @blueeyesngarnet as part of her tier reward on Patreon. Hope you enjoy your story!)
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