I got a text from my dinner date asking if we could go a bit earlier than planned, knowing that I eat dinner rather late into the evening. I of course agreed but offered that if something else had come up we could do it another time.
“I am so nervous I wasn’t able to eat lunch” he texted back.
You have got to be fucking serious. No, not one of those guys…
Look maybe it is just me and I know some people see being nervous as a good thing but it so rarely happens to me in regards to dating that I often overlook that it happens to other people. Why? Is it me? Is it them? I hate doing all the talking. I hate sitting there with someone looking at the floor or worse just staring at me. I had every intention of having a steak, I am eating regardless!
No deal to get myself ready it is an easy and quick process. My date arrived in a truck the size of my house, I managed to fall into the truck gracefully face first only because I have actually been around massive amoured vehicles before. I straightened out my skirt and blouse, flung my hair back out of my face and gave him a big smile “you sure you have a permit to drive this thing on the road?” I laughed and he laughed, it was now my intention to put him at ease.
On the drive he once again mentioned he was nervous, all I could do was say that I was sorry he was feeling that way but assured him there was no reason I could think of – and he tried to imply that he does not get nervous. Something about him, not the truck, said that he is probably a very confident person, being nervous does not mean you aren’t, but I had no wonder if he was anxious about something less obvious.
I fell out of the truck just as gracefully as I did in: note to guys with really big trucks, make a point of asking your lady friend to wait, that you will come around and help her dismount your massive steed of greed. By the time he made it around his own truck I was already dusting myself off in victory.
I ended up getting the fish, believe it since moving to Indiana from Canada I have not had many opportunities to have good seafood, so I decided to go with the Halibut. We talked about all sorts of things, his kids, sports, news, politics and of course all his questions about my husband, PC and me: the triad.
I had finished only the fish and salad, everything else was left to waste unfortunately but he seemed more at ease by the time I was finished with my coffee and suggested that we go. He walked me to the door and opened it for me “here let me help you up”he offered but I laughed and said “Oh no, this is about principle, I will not be defeated by a Dodge Ram” I put my foot on the side board and my hand on the grip and with one swift move was up and seated.
“You are most welcome, I said that I would. I even put on my most softest pair… would you like to feel them?” I asked as I pulled up the hem of my modest skirt and pushed my leg towards him.
“Could I? Really?” his face was a mixture of childish exicetment and fear which happens to be where I dwell best.
I tossed off my flat shoe and put my leg on the leather bench seat, stretching it out slowly towards him like a dangerous snake – he was stuck up against the truck window, his hands twisting themselves in anticipation and trying to give himself some comfort. His eyes were wide, looking carefully the whole length of my leg to my eyes and then back to my leg again.
“Go on, I wore them for you or I would have just worn pants and boots” I said with more authority.
Just as Indiana Jones stretched out his fingers to touch the crystal skull, not completely convinced it was all that real and that perhaps it might vanish or worse set of a series of traps, my date very carefully let the reality of what he was about to do sink in. What it was I was making him do, and that he no longer had any power to say no. His fingers touched the tips of my toes and opened as they traveled over my foot, up towards my ankle and ever higher up the calf. I stopped him at my knee, cruelly taking my leg away and saying “see I told you they were soft”
He had the look of a kid about to throw a fit and pout.
“Yes they are. Can I touch them again? Please?” he asked softly.
“How about you start the truck and head me towards home and I will make myself comfortable for the drive” I removed my other shoe and turned myself towards him, fixing my skirt and blouse making sure to adjust the seat belt. He started the truck and looked at me, watching carefully, but I tossed my head sideways to the direction of the road with a smile.
He began to drive and I talked about something of no great importance as I put both my legs up on his lap of course I knew damn well what I was doing. He corrected quick enough to not drive off into the other lane and began to pet and rub at the stockings on my leg.
“This is weird isn’t it?” he said.
“do you think I am that weird for doing it?” I asked.“no.” he said.
“this is perfectly normal if you ask me” I laughed. He hates it when I call him normal.
“So are you wearing panties?” he asked.
“No I am not” I said without offering any evidence to support the statement.
He waited a whole three minutes before he asked “Can I see?” he had left his hand on my knee and was no longer rubbing at the nylon.
I retrieved my legs from his lap and turned myself facing ahead but leaned myself towards my door and lifted my skirt – exposing the left bare bottom cheek.
“Oh. My. God. Pyx…” he said it with his breath and it was kind of weird sounding … I was waiting for him to finish the sentence but nothing else came out of his mouth.
“Can I have a peek?” he asked.
I put my left leg back up on his lap and I let the right leg rest off to the side of the leather bench and gave him a peak – I made sure to pull my skirt up to my waist, allowing my legs to stay wide open. I touched at the cotton crotch a bit while I remembered PC had just been there less than 12 hours ago…
I let my left foot rub against his raging hard on that almost had me laugh. Men, they are so much fun and such great sports about this stuff. I watched him and almost wished I was getting as much pleasure out of it as he was, not that I would go through the motions for his sake or that of a any man but I would have to reflect on my own ‘first time’ doing something like this in order to feel what he was feeling.
The smell of leather was nice and I wondered for a moment how many other women out there would have done this for him, anything nice that he wanted that would make him happy even if only for the drive home. It wasn’t turning me on but clearly it was him and that is really kind of the point isn’t it. Sure he is a nice guy and all but everything with a woman is so hidden, men have this thing that gives them away and it makes them vulnerable.
He was blushing and I adore that in everyone (except myself) and chose to use my ring and pull of a piece of my nylons. “Here you can take that with you, thank you for a lovely dinner. I had a wonderful time…” yadda yadda yadda. I pulled down my skirt in the driveway and fixed my blouse, and once again by the grace of all that his Holy I vanished from sight of the monstrous truck.
He messaged me all the way home. I know that for a lot of people when they give in to a fetish fantasy or something kinky it can be a big deal, so of course I kept myself available and not annoyed with the fact he needed reassurance that I didn’t think he was a freak; given my recent mood I had to remind myself to do so.
I kind of hate that term ‘freak’ in regard to sexuality but that will have to be for another time. I felt good that I made someone else feel good, what I had done was not a big deal to me, I enjoyed his company and his reactions but I know for a fact he still has that little piece of torn nylon and has been petting and sniffing it since… next time I am having the steak.