#amber cottrell

It’s a warm sunny day, winter is giving way to spring, they are seated on the upper balcony deck of the Pop-Over Pantry. Amber’s table setting has her heart shaped sunglasses folded neatly on one side, her phone face down on the other, she has her second mimosa in her manicured grip. She is waiting on her ridiculously decedent blueberry cheesecake stuffed brioche’ French toast and Mark on is waiting on his breakfast skillet, and they are talking. 

“So that’s why Amanda couldn’t join us today-” He finishes, and she sighs, “So now I am stuck with just you? Terrible, truly.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “Yeah, you are so hard done by.” 

“I am, I totally am.” Amber nods with a small smile, she watches Mark take a sip of his coffee and once he does, he asks her the question that sets this all in motion, “So have you seen this orange peel theory thing everyone has been talking about?” 

“Not you too.” She groans and Mark laughs, asking, “What?”

“Just everyone and their mom is talking about it, my sister sent me a video of it the other day.” Comes the response from the redhead.

“What, Jules sent a video of her husband doing that for her?” Mark asked and Amber said, “No, she sent me a video of the priest at our old church working it into his Sunday sermon.” 

A look of recognition crosses Mark's face, a nod that shows that makes much more sense than his suggestion. Amber sets her glass down and sits up a little straighter, her voice drops into a deeper pitch, a serious expression as she does her best to impersonate him, “Have you ever considered all the ways that God peels an orange for you?”

Mark winces, “Fuck, that’s bad.” 

“Right?” Amber and him share a laugh. Plates of food are brought, and after the first bites are taken, she asks, “Why are you bringing it up?”

Mark looks across the table and says with a tilt of his head, “Just wondering if you’d ever do that to Freddy.”

“Give him a fucking relationship test?” Her question has no shortage of confused bewilderment in her tone, it’s met with a serious nod and a half smile, “Yeah, would you ever ask him that?”

“Why would I?” Amber’s eyes drop, she focuses on cutting another bite sized piece off her toast. 

“So you know where you stand and how much he cares about you?” Mark says it like it is obvious and Amber laughs, “I know where I stand, I know he cares about me.”

“I mean, knowing he cares about you as more than a fun set of holes to fuck.” He deadpans, and that makes Amber’s eyes glance up at him. 

She sets down her silverware and rests her elbows on the table, she leans forward on her hands under her chin, “Mark, darling, dearest, why do you think I want him to care about me more than a fun set of holes to fuck?” 

“Because you are so painfully, clearly in love with him.” Mark says with a grin that is too wide, and there is a beat. Tension. 

She breaks first, laughing, she picks up her knife and fork, her tone is fond as she says, “You are such a fucking asshole.” 

“C’mon I thought that was your type.” Mark teases and Amber’s stiletto meets his shin, a kick that is playful but a hair harder than it needs to be to drive the point home, he plays it up more than needed to add to the comedy and makes her bark out a laugh so loud it causes the people at the next table to look over at her.

Brunch was nice.

The conversation lingers on her mind. 

Hours and hours later, even when she is going to bed, it is still on her mind. She is slipping between crisp white sheets, head hitting the pillow, muttering over how stupid Mark is. 

She can’t believe she is really going to do this. 

He isn’t in the playroom when she pulls herself there. He will probably be along shortly. She walks over to the kitchen's island bar, she looks at the space she wants it to show up, with a sigh she concentrates, snaps her fingers and the bowl of fruit appears. She reaches into the bowl and plucks up the single orange. Amber sits herself on one of the barstools, passing the orange between her hands before setting it down. Her fingers rest on it, rolling it in slow circles, she leans on her other hand, she is contemplating zapping the fruit out of existence, but she hears him. 

“Heya shortstack.” 

Her head snaps up, she abandons the fruit and turns on the stool, looking over at him, a smile crosses her lips and she returns his greeting. “Hey Freddy.”

“Why didn’t you call and let me know you were here, gorgeous?” He asks as he makes his approach, he has his non-gloved hand in his pocket as he comes over, he is in no rush, his walk unhurried. She shrugs, “I knew you’d feel me soon enough and make your own way over.” 

“Awful trusting.” He muses, and she smiles, “Yeah, I do trust you way too much.” 

He is next to her now, gloved hand rests on her lower back, he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head, she returns it when he starts to pull away, laying one on the underside of his jaw. Freddy hums pleased, and some part of her purrs in satisfaction in kind. His glove leaves her, she momentarily mourns the loss with a small pout.

“So.” He leans on the bar, focused on her, asking, “How are you?”

Her eyes glance down at the orange quickly, she feels silly, she doesn’t know if she should bring it up, she doesn’t have to do it. What does Mark know anyway? She is secure in what they have, she shouldn’t let him effect what she shares with Freddy in any way, she can just forget about it. 

“Good, had a good Sunday. Met up with Mark for brunch.” She tells him and Freddy snorts, “And how’s our favourite dork doing anyway?” 

“Mark is Mark.” She sighs, resolutely deciding to not tell Freddy about their conversation earlier, thoroughly giving up on the idea her old friend put forth, instead choosing to focus on just spending time with him.

“How about you?” She asks and Freddy stands more up right, he shrugs, a sigh, he looks frustrated, “Teenagers these days, their fears are getting more esoteric and existential all the time, Amber” 

She comforts him and teases him all at once, “Oh I am sure you are doing great, but don’t you love a challenge?”

“I mean, sure, but you try to shape-shift into the physical representation meant to be the mortifying idea of being known to scare some traumatized 17-year-old with daddy issues. What happened to snakes? Why can’t I run into some kid who is scared of spiders or some shit?” He rants and her smile broadens, turns dreamier. God, she really does love him, the passion he has.

He sighs, and his shoulders drop, seemingly feeling a bit better having gotten that out, “Anyway, I’m going on too much about work, how’s stuff at the office?”

She starts to tell him about that week, it had been a good one honestly, was filling him in on some silly story that had to do with her assistant and while she is animatedly telling him, he does something unexpected and unasked.

He picks up the orange.

She doesn’t falter, but her brows raise, he uses the blades of his gloves to peel the fruit, he is still listening, looking between the task and her, smile playing on his face, small chuckles where appropriate. 

The pieces of peel fall away and onto the countertop and when the fruit is fully exposed he removes a section of it, leans closer, holds out a piece and that makes her stop telling the story to ask, “What are you doing?”

His look is quizzical, “Giving you some orange? I didn’t bring this here so I know you did, it was sitting in front of you, I figured you wanted some.” 

Something inside her melts. 

She was right. The test was fucking stupid and Mark is wrong, it wasn’t necessary, because between Amber and Freddy? He knows her so well, she never has to ask. 

“Yeah I do.” She admits softly, and she takes the section of orange, he smiles, and she matches it, saying, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it, now c’mon what did he say next?” Freddy asks, his investment in the story makes her laugh again and she tells him.

She had to hobble back home, cursing the whole way for the wasted drink, the horribly stained blouse and skirt that needed dry cleaning and her perfectly good patent leather Louboutin heel that was ruined beyond recognition. She couldn’t even pry the busted heel out of the grate so taking it to a cobbler to try and salvage it was out. She called her assistant, him on speaker phone on the table in her walk-in closet as she got redressed, informing him she would be late. 

She had to change and couldn’t show up to work in a broken shoe and a ruined outfit, not with performance reviews today, she was up first before delivering some of the people she managed and he informed her that her boss called just before her and was going to be early. 

She barely made it in time. 

Her review was fine, better than fine, it was glowing, the one highlight of today. Her own reviews she gave were more disorganised than she would like, her lunch order was wrong, her computer was out of commission and needed IT to fix it, by five o-clock she was fucking bone tired and had totally written the day off. 

She wanted to cook dinner, wanted to lose herself to the methodical nature of it, and help make up for the lack of breakfast and her terrible lunch. Sadly, dinner somehow got inexplicably burnt and she just about lost it. She tossed the smoking pan into the sink after turning off her smoke alarm and then picked up her cell phone and almost felt bad for the poor guy on the other end who took her pizza order which was surely the most angry pizza request anyone had ever put in at that particular establishment. 

When her order was in, phone tossed down and forgotten, she busted out her nicest bottle of whiskey and poured a glass for herself, neat. She downed it in one painful swallow that burned in the most satisfying way and then poured herself another. 

The pizza arrived in less than thirty minutes, she thrust the folded bills in the hand of the clearly nervous delivery person, but she didn’t blame them. Wild red curls around her head, her blouse unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, giving dead eyes and a vaguely angry expression, glass in her (Chipped! Another thing that pissed her off earlier-) manicured grip, saying nothing. She took the pizza in the other hand that wasn’t holding her glass and she slammed the door closed with her foot before walking into the living room. She sat on the couch, put down her glass and opened the box, about to eat the pizza right out of there, sans plate. 

When she opened it, something made her stop. 

She stared down at the offending box, around 50% of the cheese from the pizza stuck to the box's lid. 

She sighed, closed the box, finished her drink and turned off the tv. 

Today is done, it’s over, she isn’t doing this anymore. 

She’d laugh if she had anything left inside. She stripped off, threw the clothes down, and left them on the bathroom floor. She ran a bath, used salts and oils and bubble bath and slipped into the scalding hot water and allowed the tension to start to melt out of herself. She breathed deep and let the smell of lavender soothe her frayed nerves. She got out when the water was significantly cooled, she moisturised, did her skin care, spritzed herself with perfume she knew he liked best, vanilla and honeysuckle but not just cloying sweetness, it had depth to it.

Making her way to her closet, she thought about how she was going to get to see him soon. Tonight was a big deal, she had hoped today was going to be a good day leading up to it but sadly it wasn’t, tonight was their anniversary, three years since he had been back and she was excited to celebrate it with him. She wasn’t going to let her terrible day dampen tonight.

She pulled out the bag from her closet that she had bought a month ago, fished out the white silk pyjama set that she knew Freddy would eat up. It was traditional, very, very unlike anything she had worn previously for him, it screamed innocence and begged two words, “corrupt me”, there was no way he wouldn’t love the change of pace.

Now in a much better headspace she made her way to bed, as fun as a good hate fuck is every now and again, she didn’t want to bring that energy to him this time.  

She slipped into the sheets and stretched out, even after so long she still felt palpable excitement to see him on a night like tonight. It made falling asleep harder but no matter what, it always got to her eventually, just like him, he always got to her eventually. 

The change from awake to asleep bleeds, it melts slowly, from her being conscious to un. She always becomes aware of it when she feels the sheets of the bed in the playroom as opposed to the ones on her own bed. She feels the weight of the mattress shift and her eyes slide open, she feels his hands on her body through the blanket and she looks up to see him, already almost on top of her, “There she is. Was wondering if you were ever gonna show up.”

“Awe, did I keep you waiting?” 

“You did. Terrible, awful, girl. Making me hang around on a night like tonight. Maybe I shouldn’t give you your gift as punishment.” He teased and she laughed, a roll of her eyes, “We both know you aren’t gonna not fuck me tonight.”

He gasps, mock offence, “You think that is the only thing I got you?” His gloved hand to his chest and she laughs over his expression.

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She taunts as she sits up and as the blanket slips down and pools at her waist he sees what she is wearing. “Oh. Now what-” He reaches out, feels her arm with his non-gloved hand, “-is this?”

“One of your gifts.” She says with a smile, leaning away a little bit as he takes in the creamy white silk covering her form. He yanks the rest of the blanket away to see the rest of her and she asks, “What do you think?” 

“I thiiiink, it is very different from what you usually wear.” He said honestly and she hummed as he leaned in closer, “Good different or bad different?”

“Oh I think you know what kind of different.” He stated and she let him think he was going to let him kiss her and when his lips were an inch away from hers instead she fell back onto the bed and he groaned, his head tipping forward and she giggled. Looking up at him through her hair, playing with her fingers as she looked up at him, mocking with a playful pout, “What’s the matter Freddy? You don’t wanna work for it?”

“I didn’t have to work for it the first night you came sniffing around for me, why do I gotta work for it now when we are years in?” The tone shows he is joking and she reaches out, toying with the hem of his sweater. “Cuz it’s fun. Annnd you love me, and I humour you all the time.” 

He sighs as if he is put out when they both know he is not. “Compelling argument you strike.” 

She pats the space on the bed next to her and he takes her up on it, lays beside her, feet to head and facing her, one of his hands resting on her leg, looking towards her and asks, “So how was your day?”

A groan leaves her, one of her arms thrown over her eyes overdramatically in a fashion that makes him smile, “Terrible! The worst ever!” 

She then proceeds to vent about her day, from the spilled coffee and broken heel to her burnt dinner and the ruined pizza that was surely congelling, grease leaking through the box onto her nice glass coffee table, and he listened. He actually validated what she said and agreed it was all bullshit. “Really?” 

“Yes!” He said and she asked, “You don’t think I am overreacting?” 

“Not at all.” He affirmed, his hands hadn’t left her, tracing slow and sweet patterns over the pyjama pants she was wearing. “Even the thing with my heels?”

“Hey I loved those heels, the ones with the red bottoms? They looked so good on you!” The look he was giving her she knew exactly what he was thinking of.

“Yeah you always did love 'em propped on your shoulders.” She said with a smile and he laughed, “Can’t sneak nothing past you.” 

“Not after all this time, no.” She sighs, “Thanks for listening.”

“Of course, the least I could do.” He started to sit up, his hand not leaving her thigh as he asked, “Is there anything I can do to help fix such a shit fucking day?” 

“I just wanna do whatever you have planned. You do have something planned, don’t you?” She asks sweet as pie.

“You think I don’t have something planned? Honey, you wound me deeply.” 

“Hardly. Give me that glove and we can talk about me wounding you deeply.” 

“Have you thought about this a lot?” He asked and she laughed, reaching out she plucked up his gloved hand, “Oh yeah, don’t you know? I masturbate exclusively to the thought of me murdering you with your own weapon.” 

“I knew it.” He accused her. He got up and held out said gloved hand, “C’mon, let’s go.”

She hums and takes what he offered as she always did. Turns out the plans took them to some well loved and previously enjoyed spots, a drink out a certain club, all while recalling fond old times. “Remember last time we came to this club and I-”

“Fucked me in the alley so good I ended up flat on my ass? Yes! It was hilarious, my legs just gave out.” She laughed, “You looked like a newborn deer trying to walk after.”

“Did I ever tell you I called out of work that morning?” She asked and he laughed, “Fuck off! No you never said!”

“Well I tried to get up but it was a no go, I had to fucking crawl to the bathroom-” 

After all of that, food was gotten at a particular restaurant, more good times recalled, 

“So did you ever see Joseph again?” 

“You mean after the time he tried to kiss me and you got so jealous you almost gutted me like a fish? Nope, steered clear after that.” It was said in a shockingly light tone considering how heavy the subject matter was. 

“I wasn’t gonna kill you, fuckssake-” He groaned, a fond roll of her eyes, “Uh-huh, just what was your intention?”

“Just scare you real bad.” 

“Well you accomplished that-”

And soon the gifts were exchanged. He laughed when he opened his, pulling out the silver object from the box with his non-gloved hand, “Really? You got the permanent burn victim a lighter?” He flicked it open and lit it once on the first strike before snapping it closed, snuffing out the flame, “Hilarious.” 

“I thought so! But read it.” She encouraged and he did so, seeing the engraving on the other side, “Thank you for the fire you lit inside me.”  

It made him have a small moment of pause, thumb ran over the embedded words, but instead of being sweet or acknowledging the touching gesture he instead teased, “Look at you. When did you get so fucking soft on me?”

“Freddy, c’mon, you’ve felt me all over, you know first hand how soft I am.” She joked and he sighed, “Open your gift already Amber.” 

She hooks a nail under the red green silk ribbon that was tied around the red wrapped box, she pulls until the bow gives way and she opens the box and sees what he got her, “Ooh! New piercing set!” She lightly touched the polished dark green metal, “Ooo, different colour this time.” She lifted the matching pieces out, turning them over in her fingers. “You gonna outfit me in the whole rainbow eventually, hm?”

“Only took you this long to figure it out, I’m shocked.” He said before taking a sip from his bourbon.

“I’m slow on the uptake sometimes, can you blame me when you distract me so often?”

“I’ll let it slide this time. You wanna put those new ones in?” He asked and she laughed hard into her glass, before she set it down, “Here? At the table?”

“I’ve fucked you on this table in front of the whole restaurant before but sure, you changing out your piercings is too far?”

“Heaven forbid I have some boundaries left.” She finishes the rest of her drink, “We can head back and maybe you can help me change em yourself.” 

“Tempting offer.” He agrees as he gets up and takes her hand. 

They never got to him helping her change her piercings, both were a little too distracted a little too quickly for that. He used his glove to shred her nice pyjamas, he popped the buttons off so the top hung loose and open, pretty tits on display, pants mostly cut apart giving him the ample access he needed to torture her and please himself. It didn’t take much for it to escalate to its current point, there was no need to rush but sometimes the need they feel is too much to take their time.

Amber is riding Freddy as they are sitting up, both of them very, very into it, bodies pressed almost as close as can be. She pulls back from him, slightly, breaking the very sloppy kiss they had been sharing, a soft moan of, “Freddy.”, gracing her lips.

“Amberrr-” He almost purrs her name back, a clench of her on him, another rush of arousal pouring through her chest and straight to her overheated cunt. 

Panting, she asks around a half laugh, half moan, “Fuck, is it possible to be addicted to hearing the sound of your own name?” 

He laughs too, “Shit, I dunno, let’s test it, eh? Say my name.” Her arms looping around his neck, rolling her hips she breathes to him, “Freddy-” His head falls back with a groan, thrusting up into her harder, “You know, I think you’re onto something.” 

A breathy giggle breaks out, she starts “You narcissistic fucker-” He cuts her off, “Hey, you’re one to talk! This was your fucking idea-” Another series of hard thrusts upwards makes her shudder, a series of broken moans leave her open mouth, “-Amber.” 

The son of a bitch said it just the way she adored when he did, focusing on the M, stretching out the R, lingering on it as if every syllable was a delicious treat for his senses.

“What? No cute little comment?” He asked and when her pleasure addled brain made her response take too long for his liking he stopped cold and she groaned, a shake of her head, “No, no, ju-st keep going-” When he did she gasped, clung closer, even with her thighs trembling she resumed her earlier pace, slamming down to meet him in the middle, “Fuck! Right there!”

When she was out of school, had her first job, was a little settled, she thought back about that, the wants, urges and cravings never left, were just hidden under a mess of other shit she had to do. One thing she had indulged in was online research, she found plenty of things she was sure she’d like, if only she could do them, but finding someone to do some of what she wanted wasn’t an easy ask for the usual person. 

When a friend made mention of a sex club in her city, one that had a BDSM night regularly, it didn’t take much convincing to go. She was young and single and wanting to have fun and just going to check out the scene and meet new people was good, healthy exploration, right? 

So she went, it was a Friday night, a good way to kick off her weekend and from the get go she knew she was practically star struck. So many people of all kinds and body types and varying states of dress. When she arrived she only passed by the myriad of different rooms available, she wanted to start easy. The main room wasn’t a play space, it was a safe zone to just chat and get to know people, sure some people were wearing not much or some wild stuff but no one was getting with each other. She finds herself at the bar in desperate need of a drink. 

She is wondering what to order, perusing the specialty cocktail menu when she first notices him. Well noticing him noticing her. Out of the corner of her eye, clearly older than her, not like that was hard, especially at a place like this, attractive, well loved and frankly very nice looking brown leather jacket. She looks away when the bartender asks what she wants, she is a little distracted, choosing the third drink down her eye kept being drawn to. She leans against the bar, waiting, people watching, and when the drink is given to her and she slides the money across the bar he is still watching her. 

He is patient. He waits, waits until she has mingled around, still hasn't talked to anyone, not seriously, a few short conversations, a casual, “Oh my God I love your outfit-” thrown here and there, and is going back to the bar for another drink to make his move over to her. 

He slid up beside her to refresh his own and that is where it started. She leaned against the bar again and he turned towards her with a simple offer of, “Can I get you a drink?”

She is looking up at him, blue eyes and freckles and bright red curls and a sweet smile, so much shorter than him, he bet’s if he had an arm around her waist he could pick her up like she weighed nothing at all. He sees the recognition in her eyes, she noticed him watching her earlier, she seems pleased to tell him, “Sure, thank you.” 

“What are you having?” He asked and she ordered another of the same and he got himself another whiskey neat and while they waited he said, “This is your first time here right?”

“That obvious?” She asked, nails tapping on the bartop and he said, “Just haven’t seen you here before.”

“Oooh and you know everyone here?” She teased as the tapping ceased and he said, “Maybe I do.” 

“Sooo if I am looking for someone to show me around, you’re my guy?”  The tone she asked, unmistakably playful, was very pleasing to his ear. 

“I think I can be your guy if you’ll have me.” He offered. 

Their drinks were set down and she picked hers up as he paid, “Well lead the way.” 

He did just that, they walked through, went from room to room as he told her their purpose and function and they people watched. He noticed the slight stumble in her step when she was much too caught up watching the action to look properly where she was walking and putting her feet, the light blush on her cheeks when something particularly caught her fancy. There were rooms dedicated to tying and punishment, to dancing, an indoor pool, and so much more. She seemed totally swept up in it, he noted she seemed to really like the upstairs hallway, lined with two way mirrors, letting outside observers see into bedrooms. Allowing people to watch you without you knowing about it or seeing them, an exhibitionst and a voyurist’s match made in heaven. . 

She was fun.

He decided that early on, she tried to keep up, she made good jokes and was adorably flustered at points seeing this happen in real time in front of her. Not to mention she was just good to look at period, short and clingy black dress, sheer in some strategic places, ample cleavage on display and nice heels and makeup, she was really fucking pretty and he thinks she would look even prettier with some well placed bruises peaking out from under her clothing. 

By the time she had been shown around, she seemed a lot more at ease, she had finished her second drink, she was obviously having a good time. Walking closely with him, smiling and giggly when he brought her to a comfortable booth in a different room from that main one they met in.

He asked the big question, “So why did you come here tonight?”

“Curiosity. Been uhm curious about a lot of this for a while, a lot of theory but no practice, you know?” She said with a shy smile. There was still a little bit of space between them in the booth, but not much. 

“So you finally wanted to come see for yourself I get it. Thoughts?” 

“Oh, good! Really, really good.” She said honestly and he pressed, “But still, watching and doing is very different. Seems to me there is still a lot of theory and not much of that practice you are after.” 

“Tonight was more about looking than trying.” She said with a shrug, “So you aren’t looking to try tonight?”

“No one’s shown any interest.” She said and he laughed, “Really? I’ve been noticing a lot of people looking at you sweetheart but you’ve been almost glued to my side for the last hour.”

“So being around you is killing my chances? Damn it.” She joked and he took this as an in, “What if I was interested?”

She looked him over, considering something before saying, “And how old are you?” She asked and he fired right back, “How old are you?”

“Lot of questions. Old enough to drink at least and isn’t that the most important thing?”

“Fair enough and I am clearly old enough to drink so isn’t that enough?” He asked with a grin and she was seemingly satisfied as she changed the subject and  said. “I never got your name.”

“Fred.” He said easily before inquiring, “And you are?”

“Amber.” She supplied. What a pretty name. “Well Amber-” He put emphasis on her name which made her smile brighten, “-I’m very glad you came in tonight.” 

“Me too.” 

A beat of silence before she asked, “So you have been coming here for a while?” 

“Oh yeah, years.”  He confirmed.

He noticed her fidget in her seat, like she was going to take a drink before remembering her glass was empty and she hummed before saying, “If it isn’t too much, can I ask what you are into Fred?”

“Awe I don’t want to scare you off.” He said with a laugh before she gave a slight pout, “I can handle it!”

“I dunno if you can.” He teased before finishing his drink and asking if she wanted another. She held out her glass and told him, “Yes please.”

He left her sitting there and she thought as she watched him go back to the bar. Maybe if she said something first, opened up a little then he would. She built up the courage and when he came back, sat down and handed her the drink, she took a hearty pull before just saying it, “I think about being tied up a lot.”

That made him pause. 

She was looking at him, her gaze fixed on his face. “I…I think it could be really fun and hot and…I like the idea of being helpless but on my terms. With someone I can trust, the idea of just letting them do what they want…”

His hand rested on her knee, the other hand cradling his drink and he encouraged her, “Go on.” 

“I think about struggling, not because I want to get away, but to just feel how unrelenting the ropes and their hold is and it’s, fuck, it’s just good.” She breathed and he knew he made the right call picking her out. He can’t help but picture it, bright red ropes framing that soft looking body, making her beg, and just as he said, doing whatever he wanted to her and her loving it, he had to play this right. 

He squeezed her knee gently, watched her face flush further, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“Of course I…I thought, if I wanted to know what you like it’s only fair I share.” 

“Quid pro quo huh? You sharing to get me to spill?” He teased and she said, “Well not just that I honestly wanted to share. I’ve never told anyone that before and just saying it outloud felt good.” 

“It is good to admit those things, M’ glad you did to me.” She smiled wider before asking, “Sooooo-”

He took another drink, drew it out, made her wait, before saying, “Soooo, what if I told you I happen to have a lot of experience tying people up?”

Her mouth fell open slightly. “You…You do? You like that too?”

“I do.” He could see her mind working, she looked so excited and like she could barely contain it, he caught the slight move of her thighs pressing together tighter. 

“Never met someone else who does, have you?” She hummed, a small shake of her head. “What else do you like?”

“I like…I like the idea of someone being really uhm dominating believe it or not.” She admitted and with a hand to his chest he gasped, “You? Submissive? No!” 

She laughed, hard, it was beautiful and she said, “Geeze, again, that obvious?”

“Expressing the desire to be tied up and helpless might have given you away there sweetheart.” 

Him calling her that pet name was not unnoticed by her. She deflected, joking, “Mean! You’re mean, I’m being really vulnerable and you’re teasing me!”

“So you’re saying you aren’t into that?”  

She took another sip of her drink before saying, “Shut up.” And he laughed just as she did before. “I told you one so now you-”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be honest since you have been, and say more than I like being dominating-” She interjected, “Shocker.”

“Hush.” The command was playful, teasing, but with a firm edge that made her mouth close on instinct. “-I’m really into impact play.”

He saw the look in her eyes shift, definitely intrigued, “Pain huh?”

“Yeah, not just giving, I like a little taking too.” 

Interesting. He asked, “Have you thought about that?”

“Been curious about it not gonna lie. Spanking and paddles have a certain appeal.” She was really opening up now, she felt comfortable, at ease with him. 

“They are fun.” He said casually and she asked, “How much experience do you have?”

“Oh that conversation can be saved for later but let’s just say, a lot.” 

She liked that. She had so little experience, she wanted to try so much, he seemed to have knowledge along with that experience, maybe someone like him, or maybe just him, would be best to explore with. She went from just going to look to realising, yes, looking isn’t enough, thinking and masturbating to it all isn’t enough, she is dying to try, to experience. 

“I feel like you are holding back on a big one here.” He stated and she bit her bottom lip, how did he know that? 

“Okay, okay. Maybe part of why I wanted to come here is exhibitionism, people watching me, seeing me do something people normally reserve for private…Insanely hot.” 

Oh well this is too perfect.

His hand had not left her knee. “Here is the best place for that without risking getting yourself into trouble, even if the risk is part of the fun of course.”

She was halfway through her drink again, setting it on the table, she felt it. This tension, they had been inching closer, her leg nearly touching his. She got along with him scarily well and he had to give it up, he was hot, very attractive and seemingly very, very into her. They had a few kinks lining up already and she hoped there was more. She did this to try new things, to explore and find herself and what she liked, was there any harm in some extra indulgence? 

“Do you think maybe you could…Help me with that?” 

“With what Amber. Tell me.” He wanted her to say it.

“With a little…Public play?” She asked quietly and he was tempted to make her speak up and try again but this was already a big step for her, he could see that. “I think I can do that.” 

His own drink set down, his other hand meets her neck, thumb stroking along her jaw and he said, “If you want me to stop-”

“I’ll tell you.” She said with a nod and he smiled at that, what a good girl. He leaned in and kissed her and she tensed for a small moment before melting into it. Another moment is taken before she is returning it, kissing him back. She always loved this, it was what clued her into liking exhibitionism, public make outs at parties always got her way too hot, made her so wet but they only stayed that way. Whenever it turned to more it was behind closed doors and got so bad, so boring and painfully vanilla and selfish. 

She turned her body to be closer to him, he kissed her deeper and she let out a small moan in response that pushed him forward, making his hand start to slide up her leg. Her heart is beating so hard, she lets him lead, spreads her legs slightly and gives him more access, silent consent and when his hand is high enough that his fingers touch damp lace she gasps against his mouth, “Freddy-”

Still so close together he asked, amusement apparent in his tone, “Freddy, huh?”

A nod, a hum, “Ca-can I call you Freddy?”

It feels good coming from her, “Sure you can, sweetheart.” And before she can say anything else he is kissing her again, fingers starting to move with a shocking amount of confidence and she is worried her brain is going to shut off. 

Her hand is on his shoulder, fingers gripping smooth leather as she is kissing him hard, in a few short moments she is breathing much harder as they make out. His fingers stroked her through her soaked panties, slow and teasing and nowhere near enough. She rocks her hips, pushing herself forward into his hand and he lets out a small laugh. “So eager.”

“Feels good.” She said it so softly, like she was almost embarrassed. 

“Yeah hon? Feels good?” His mouth moved, kissed over her cheek and down her neck and she squirmed against him, he pressed harder, more pressure and she whined, “So good.” 

It felt like she was on fire, he had barely done a thing but the feel of him, the situation, his confidence, it was all working far too well for her. 

Her other hand reaches out, is pressed to his chest, sliding under the jacket, she just wants to feel more of him and he is not going to complain about that, her wanting her hands on him is a great sign. He lets his teeth graze along her throat, she jumps, thighs tense around his hand and brows knit together and she curses, “Something else you like?”

He does it again, harder, fingers slowly slightly under her dress and she says, “Tha-that! With your mouth, fuck, please, again?” 

He bites. Not hard but he does and she moans the loudest she has so far and sees her immediately clamp her mouth closed again. He stops. All of it. Pulls back, “Look at me.”

She does, eyes open, questioning, “Why’d you stop?”

“Don’t do that. You wanted this, wanted to do this in public, no being all cute and holding those pretty sounds back. Don’t you want people to look over here and see this?” 

A small nod and he tsk’d, “Not good enough. I won’t keep going till you gimmie what I want to hear.”

"Yes I want it!" She rushed out on a single exhale, “Okay, okay I promise I-I won’t hold back.” 

He starts again, no kissing but focusing his attention between her legs and he watches her body respond, how she tenses and arches closer, does as he wants and lets the moan slip out unbidden and he praises her, “There you go, good girl.” 

Hearing him say that, she feels like she is going to melt into the booth below her. He helps reposition her, wants her closer, pulling her nearer. He is still feeling her through the material of her panties and she moves her hips, wanting him to touch her, bare skin on bare skin but she doesn’t find the words to ask for it. Instead she asks, “I-I’m a good girl?”

He suppresses a laugh, she is too cute, “I know we only just met but yes Amber, you seem like a very good girl.” 

That hits her hard. She did just meet this guy a few hours ago and how he was touching her like this in a room filled with a lot of people. She gets the courage to glance around and yes some people are watching, her breath catches and her hips rock involuntarily, another spike of arousal and she doesn’t know what to do with herself. “You want some more?”

He asked and she didn’t know what more was but she was sure she wanted it. 

He was kissing her again, his tongue sliding past her lips and she moaned into his mouth at the extra contact, his hand leaves from between her thighs and she whines slightly at the loss. She is so needy, so responsive, he is having so much fun knowing how much she is enjoying this, knowing she hasn’t done anything like this before. He can show her so much, she has no idea what she is in for. His hands push her, the kiss breaks and she is on her back lying on the booth and his hands are under her dress, his mouth travelling down her neck, a few more small bites before going lower and lower. She is unable to stay still, she is still listening, not holding back, every sound that leaves her mouth is totally genuine. 

He starts to slide her panties down, a look up to her, catching her gaze, “You okay?”

A quick nod, “So okay, please Freddy-”

It is more than enough encouragement, he takes them off and spreads her wider and she is all too aware how exposed she is to him right now. It takes her feeling his breath there to realise how low he had slipped down her body while she was distracted. One of her legs over his shoulder, his other holding her thigh and he was leaning in and she couldn’t believe it. She moaned his name, long and low. He only gets in a few passes of his tongue before she is trembling under him, “Fu-fuck Freddy no-” He almost pasues before she can finish her thought, “-no one’s ever done this for me before.” 

Well there is a surprise. What kind of selfish people was she fucking before?

“Amber really?” He asked and she nodded, panting, “No one else, please don’t stop, please, please-”

She was babbling now, begging, he was making her beg, he really had lucked out. If he did this right she would be wrapped around his finger and they could have all the fun he could want with her. “I won’t stop, not till you push me away.” 

And true to his word his mouth was back on her and she was a wreck in short order. Heel digging into his back, hips pressing her as flush against him as she can be. His tongue exploring, him watching her, taking in every reaction, searching her face and eyes and body language for what was working best. Luckily she is pretty easy to read, the helpful little thing is even telling him, moans and gasps, telling him harder or faster or where and he takes it to heart. 

She is addicting. The moans, her body, her taste, how she can’t seem to get a grasp on the fact this is happening, flustered, like she doesn’t know what to do with herself, that it feels this good and he is paying this much attention to her. Moans increasing in frequency and pitch, pretty manicured nails biting into the booth below, panting openly as his tongue is circling her clit just right, two fingers had slowly pushed inside, rocking back and forth and she is dying from him. 

She can’t stop shaking, so tense, whole body taut and she is barely able to get out, “Freddy-I’m, fuck, I think I’m gonna-”

And she can’t get out any more words, she doesn’t have to, he feels it. Walls clenching on his fingers, clit pulsing against her tongue as the broken cry leaves her, tearing from her throat and he helps her through it. Doesn’t stop working until she is weakly pushing him away, still out of breath. 

He is sitting up, looking down at her, dress hiked up, sweaty and her lipstick smeared, curls wild around her head and still soaked and pretty pink slit on display.

“Seems like you enjoyed yourself.” He said with a smile, could still taste her so clearly and she reached out, still trying to catch her breath, needy grabby hands, “You…You ha, don’t nderstand…No one’s, God, no one other than me-”

And it clicks. 

Oh this is perfect, absolutely perfect.