He’s listening, but he can’t hold eye contact for more than a moment at a time. That’s usually the first give away that he’s feeling wound up, and he has been having a hard time with shifts lately. His eyes dart around, catching my eyes occasionally but settling mainly on my waist. I’m lay in the position he likes; on my side with my body slightly twisted, accentuating the steep curve between my hips and my waist.
‘Yeah it’s a lot of work, but it will be worth it when I graduate and I’ve got months to get my head together. I just need to let off more steam, maybe we could go for more walks?’. I see his chest rise a little higher at the mention of letting off steam, his breath catching momentarily. I twist my waist further and being my knee up towards my chest. He can see my arse now, and his eyes linger.
He smiles and nods, externally unfazed and calm, but he doesn’t look at me. Maybe he’s worried I will know what’s going on in his mind right now, be able to see exactly how he wants to take me. The thought of him fantasising sends waves of excitement through my pelvis, and I immediately start to feel nervous.