It’s the third course of a formal university dinner on a Thursday evening when you lean across to whisper in my ear. You look gorgeous in that dress with the slit up your thigh to show off your gorgeous legs that look as good strutting down the ancient streets as they do in the air or pinned back behind your ears. I’m trying to compete in a well fitting suit with dress shirt sleeves that you like so much rolled up to the forearm. Your warm full lips pull into a smile as you whisper words into my ear that no one else can hear.
“I douched for you, sir.”
The words send a tingle down my spine that starts under my skull and finishes at my crotch, where I feel the material of my trousers become tight. Fuck. Your eyes flick towards your bag and I see a small container of lube that you brought with you. God you’re so perfect, and clearly have been planning this encounter. You smile is now self-satisfied and your eyes glisten with anticipation. You raise an eyebrow. My eyes meet yours and I convey in my gaze that I understand what you are suggesting. Here. Soon.