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Ashira smiled. ‘Honestly, I don’t really remember,’ she admitted, climbing onto the bed and reaching for the remote. Jake studied Ashira as she flipped through the channels and frowned slightly when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. Jake shook his head as he pulled his own clothing back on before joining Ashira on the bed. They settled on an old Hitchcock film and were surprised when there was a knock on the door, followed by a man calling, ‘Room Service!’ Jake got off of the bed and answered the door. The waiter wheeled a cart of food in and handed Jake the server’s envelope containing the bill. Jake checked the box designated to have the food billed to the room and handed the waiter a generous tip. Ashira opened up both of the domed lids and her mouth watered in appreciation. ‘Prime Rib, red skin potatoes, fresh broccoli, and for dessert, chocolate cake,’ Jake rattled off as they settled in at the table. ‘Good?’ Jake asked with a grin as he saw the look on Ashira’s. Even if we made a little noise, so what? My fingers drummed lightly on her jeans and I heard her shallow breathing, little gulps of air as she shift in her seat.Now what? Unzip her jeans and keep going? Put her hand on my crotch? Sorry, I'd be a sticky mess in 20 seconds the way things were going, and I loved the mounting, pleasant edge of tension.I removed my hand from her lap and slid my right arm around her shoulders, tugging her toward me. She folded against me like a Chinese fan. My hand lingered on the roundness of her shoulder through her silky peach blouse. Her rhythmic breathing pushed her breasts, in a lacy front-clasp bra, up and down. My fingers trailed down her collarbone. "Undo the top button," I whispered. She did. My hand slipped lower, looping around her bra strap, giving the bra cup a friendly little tug upward.Again she shifted, this time shrugging a little so my hand dropped lower still and easily covered her breast through the bra. The signals flashed a stronger.
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“You look exceptionally well with your red laced corset and pencil skirt, Lyric,” stated Jake. I acknowledged him with a silent nod. Thereafter, I had returned to the networking of fellow colleagues attending the school function. Jake was in the room sharing glances with myself as he was obtaining his second beverage at the wine bar. As he glanced at me, I felt my clitoris pulsate and grow out of excitement. My g-string undergarments where rubbing up and down my labia as I was walking towards the table. I was certain that my pussy scent would end up soiling through my skirt. “Must…learn…self…control,” reciting in my head while each footstep clinked onto the floor with my stiletto heels. While trying to refrain from pussy juices gushing in my panties, I sat next to Jake. Abruptly, I felt a slight hand pulling my black pencil skirt, slowly. My thighs were quivering, yet he was nonchalant. I had to keep a poker face. Self control was not an option. The viscosity of pussy juices.

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