"Here we are, my dear. In you go," she murmurs in warm honey, holding the door open, so Claire can go before. As they walk to the center of the small store, a diminutive woman with spiky gray hair and piercing black eyes comes out from the back room.
"Good morning, Ruth, how are you today?
"Very well, Kathryn. What are we in need of?
Kathryn takes Claire by the shoulders and moves her between them, facing Ruth. She runs her crisp red nails down the girl's arms, straightening them to her sides.
"This is Claire. She is spending her first spring break with me instead of her girlfriends on some dirty beach in Florida, clever girl. I thought we should begin the day with a bit of shopping, so here we are." Katherine reaches around her thin body and unbuttons the loose white blouse. Letting it fall open, she caresses the bottom curve of Claire's bare breasts with her fingertips. "34... B?"
Ruth arches an eye and savors a long stare. "Beautiful symmetry. A small C, I think, but a B might prove more interesting. What sort?"
"Let's start with a half cup, something lacy and worth looking at. A nice sky blue will look lovely against her white skin, don't you think?"
"Yes, very nice. Black or red would be obvious. Let me see what I have in the back."
As Ruth turns to go, the front door opens and a mother and daughter enter. They stop five steps in, staring at the scene, the large wall mirror giving them a full picture. Claire, her face reddening, begins to cross her arms over her breasts. Kathryn touches her back with a finger, drawing it slowly down.
"Stand straight, pet," she says softly. As the young girl drops her arms, Kathryn reaches out and slips the shirt off her shoulders. Claire moans softly and a tremble carries down her exposed body. Letting the blouse dangle from a finger, Kathryn turns aside and brushes her other hand lightly over Claire's neck, then draws her nails out to her shoulder, as she looks openly at the two women with an arched eyebrow and a wanton smile.
The mother stiffens, frowns, and mutters under her breathe, turning to the jumbled sale table beside her. The young girl, more junior college than Claire's Vassar, continues to stare, her eyes wide, and a blush spreading across her cheeks. She only breaks away when her mother yanks her hand with an angry, "Jane!" Kathryn smiles, thinking that mother might be in for a few surprises soon.
"Here we go," announces Ruth, returning with a silver tray of shimmering blue bras.
"No... no... oh my, oh definitely this," Kathryn says, holding up the lacy treat. Moving behind Claire again, she reaches over her and holds it out, letting it sway gently. She can hear Claire take in a sharp breath.
"Arms in, dear," then brings the cups to Claire's breasts, nestling them in with a good deal more care than necessary. Satisfied, she draws her hands back, bringing the thin sides around Claire's body, and sets the two hooks. Her thumbs slide out and then slowly up the silk straps to Claire's shoulders. She gently turns the young girl around, making sure that her rapt audience of one, who has been daring quick glances, has an unobstructed view.
"Perfection, Ruth, delicious perfection," drinking in the trembling blue-veined white breasts bulging in the lacy half-shells.
"We think alike, Kathryn. Your account?"
Kathryn nods her head absently, as she helps Claire on with her blouse. When Claire tries to button it, Kathryn taps her hands.
"No, pet, leave it open."
"But... everyone will see me," Claire says in a tiny choked voice, her eyes downcast.
"That, my darling," lifting her head between her hands, softly kissing her pouty red lips, "is exactly the point. Now it's lunchtime, pet, and I am quite famished."
Taking her hand, Kathryn turns and they walk to the door. As they pass, she pauses and draws a finger lightly down the curved spine of the young girl bent over the piles of work-a-day whites. A quiet, strangled mew answers her back - oh yes, very soon.
oOoOo
Their entrance into Pierre's sparks a small squirmish, as Jonathan, the Maitre d' table, and Jillian, the reservations maven, jostle to be the first to greet Kathryn.
"Madame! Welcome to you and your young guest!" Jonathan oils out in an accent of dubious origin, pushing forward and offering a limply held hand.
"Miss Kathryn, an honor to serve you, as always," murmurs Jillian from behind.
Stabbing Jonathan with an icy stare, Kathryn reaches past and takes Jillian's extended hand.
"A pleasure to see you again, darling. A booth in the back, please. Something discreet. And give my regards to chef Pauline."
"Of course, I will let her know you are here, Miss. I have just the table for you."
Watching the red spots darkening on Jonathan's blanched cheeks, Kathryn draws her hand from Jillian's, letting her fingernails draw lightly across her palm. Jillian answers with a shiver before escorting the two women into the restaurant to a generous booth set into the back wall, so they are sheltered on three sides.
"Anything from the bar? Or will you wait for now?"
"Nothing now, darling. I will order a bottle when we've selected. Is Angela available to serve?"
"I will make sure of it, Miss Kathryn."
"Excellent, Jillian, always so obliging," Kathryn smiles, her eyes and words coating the young woman with warm honey.
"Now, pet. what are you hungry for? The salmon here is perfection. Shall we both?" Kathryn asks Claire, without looking at the menu. Claire looks up with doe eyes and slowly nods, transfixed by Kathryn's gaze.
"Lovely, then," Kathryn murmurs. The fingers of her left hand find Claire's knee beneath the linen-draped table and begin a slow, wandering dance up her smooth bare leg.
Behind the wide swinging doors leading to the pickup station, Jillian searches out Angela, finding her waiting on a delinquent sous chef's saucing. She turns her by the shoulders to face her.
"What now? That bitch on three complaining? Again?" Angela spits out.
Jillian kisses a fingertip and holds it to Angela's lips.
"Miss Kathryn requests!"
"No shit? George! Take my 10 and 12! Yeah, and fuck you, too after last Thursday! Sally, take five, yes?"
"Sure, no problem, Angi, you lucky little bitch."
They both stick out their tongues at the same time, with a giggle.
As she scans out across the room, acknowledging some of the patrons and snubbing others, Kathryn's fingers continue their journey. They have made their lazy way beneath Claire's pleated skirt and are painting her inner thigh with curlicue caresses and soft pinches. Claire's moans are barely audible, but the flush on her cheeks and tremble of her shoulders would be obvious to the eye of anyone close enough to see. Angela makes her way across the room, ignoring the glares from other waiting diners.
"Miss Kathryn, always an honor," she says with a little bow of her head, crowned with a bouncing mass of dark red curls.
"So lovely to see you, my dear. The salmon for us both and a bottle of the '08 Cassandra Chardonnay."
"Certainly, excellent." She looks up from her iPad, and a small frown crosses her face.
"What is it?" Kathryn asks, "No salmon left? No Cassandra?"
"Ah, no, not that Miss..." she pauses and touches her lower lip.
Kathryn opens her purse, retrieves an old rose gold compact and flicks it open.
"Ah, thank you," she says and turns to Claire.
"Your panties, my pet," she instructs, bringing up her hidden hand and holding it open.
"My... my..." Claire stammers, "panties?"
"Yes. Now, please."
Claire's eyes flick to Angela's face, seeing a little carnivorous smile play across her lips. She reaches under the table, under her skirt, wiggling on the smooth leather seat, as she slides her panties down and off, then passes them low across the table to Kathryn's waiting hand. Kathryn looks into the mirror again and wipes the errant smear away with a lacy edge.
She opens her lipstick and carefully traces it out anew. Done, she takes up the panties and mouths her lips off in the crotch of the pale pink silk, leaving behind a bright red signature. Looking up and accepting a confirming nod from Angela, she brings them to her nose and inhales deeply.
"Ah, the perfect appetizer. Arousal certainly, but with a lovely trace of sweat and the merest hint of urine for piquancy. Quite delicious," she pronounces and neatly folds them into her clutch.
Angela returns to the kitchen bank to bark in the order, then grasps the edge and dips her head.
"Oh just fuck me now!" she moans.
At the plating table, chef Pauline looks up from the surrounding sous chefs and chuckles with a wry smile, before returning to her plates.
In their booth, Kathryn hooks a stray lock of Claire's blond hair behind her ear and traces its curving shell with a fingertip.
"Move closer to me, pet, so I may enjoy you better. Yes, just there." Kathryn gently spreads Claire's blouse wider, further exposing her milky white breasts resting in the lacy blue bra so carefully selected earlier.
"I must remember to write Ruth a note - such excellent taste," Kathryn murmurs, as she reaches across and cups Claire's left breast in her hand, feeling her nipple growing beneath the thin lace. Claire squeezes her eyes shut with a low moan and presses her body forward, a hand grasping the table edge.
Across the room, a spoon falls from the fingers of a gentleman transfixed by the tableaux before him. The sharp clatter of silver hitting china and splash of hot soup break his spell, just as Kathryn looks over. The woman seated beside him begins dabbing at the trail of tomato bisque on his shirt front, as he looks down, stammering an excuse.
Kathryn watches with an amused smile, while her index finger tick-tocks over Claire's now prominent nipple, enjoying the tremors she's causing in the young girl's body. The woman tilts her head up and watches for a long second, then smiles. Kathryn gives her a leering wink and receives one of like measure in return. With a chuckle, Kathryn straightens herself to the table, eliciting a mew of protest beside her, as Angela arrives with their luncheon.
"With chef's compliments," Angela says.
"Oh, how sweet of her! I must find some way to thank her properly."
"Oh, I think Pauline could come up with a suggestion or two!" Angela giggles to herself, offering a taste of the wine to Kathryn.
"Perfect, all perfect. Thank you, Angela."
"Bon appetit, ladies."
Kathryn spears a bite of the vibrant, succulent pink salmon and takes it between her lips.
"Divine. Such a gift, she has. Now eat up, my pet."
Claire lifts her silver and begins, luxuriating in the first bite of ambrosia from her plate. She is about to take in another morsel, when she jerks to a stop, hand suspended before her face, as Kathryn's finger touches down, drawing up along the joint between her thigh and plump cunny.
With a strangled yip, her eyes flick to Kathryn who is calmly looking forward, sipping her glass of chardonnay. And so the tone and pace is set. A morsel in, a clit caressed. A sip, a juicy stroke of spreading orchid lips. A bite taken, a pinch, a pull, a pulsing touch. As Kathryn eats a leisurely meal, her fingers continue playing across Claire's wet, burning sex with utter dexterity, starting and stopping and starting again, bringing her to the very edge, but always refusing to let her fall into the abyss.
Claire struggles, tries her best to go on eating, but soon her hands, her arms, her body, her mind simply refuse to obey, overpowered by the roiling fire between her legs.
By the time Kathryn casually lays her fork aside and savors the last of her wine, Claire's hands are desperately holding on to the table's edge, her fingers white with the strain of keeping herself upright under the onslaught of sensory pleasure.
"Will there be dessert, Miss?" Angela asks, as the table is quickly cleared.
"Not today. But I was hoping I might prepare a little treat for you, a small remembrance. Quite to your taste, I think."
"For me?" Angela husks out, her eyes flicking over to Claire, who is biting her lip, eyes clamped shut.
"Yes. Come a bit closer to the table. And a bit to your right, yes, just there. One does like to be discrete."
Kathryn turns to Claire, replacing her left hand with her right. She caresses the back of the young girl's neck and leans in close to her ear.
"Slide down just a bit, pet. Yes, that's very good. Now, shall we show our Angela how beautiful you look when I allow you to cum? Will you cum for her now, my pet?"
Angela watches, eyes wide and mouth agape, as Kathryn begins masterfully moving her arm and hidden hand. Claire's eyes snap open and she desperately grabs a napkin from the table and stuffs it into her mouth. A bare moment later, her head jerks back into the leather booth, as her mistress brings forth an orgasm that rages across her body, the gag barely stifling her scream. Kathryn maintains her pace until a second, then a third wave crashes over Claire, who finally slumps to her side, eyes closed, husking out-breath. Kathryn holds her, whispering love into her ear, while her body slowly crawls back to life.
Kathryn looks up at Angela, red-faced and panting.
"Lean down, my sweet," she murmurs, drawing her hand up from beneath the table. She holds up two straight fingers, thickly wet and glistening and brings them to Angela's quivering lips.
"Yes?"
Breathing in deeply Claire's intoxicating scent, Angela opens her mouth and takes them into the last joint. Her tongue swirls and slides, trying to capture every drop of nectar before letting them slip from her mouth. She grasps the table, swaying, her knees weak.
"Is that not heaven? Such depth of flavor. Such a rich, copious outpouring," Kathryn gushes, "Now off with you, my darling! I think you need a bit of time to... compose yourself."
"Must... can't... have to... never... oh fuck..." Angela squeaks out, making a quick and shaky departure in the direction of the ladies' lounge. Kathryn turns back to Claire and gently strokes her still fevered cheek.
"So nice to be able to give someone a just reward, don't you think, pet?" Kathryn tilts up Claire's head and stares intently into her big blue eyes. "This has been such a lovely day, but it's time we make our way home now. I believe I hear a long, warm bubble bath calling us both."
