I didn’t care any more. Bored, and sitting alone at the reception, the woman at another table
I didn’t care any more. Bored, and sitting alone at the reception, the woman at another table intensely watching me. Little subtle movements of her head, of her fingers, of her eyes. Indicating what she wished. Her smile indicating approval as I had shifted my chair so to be facing her now. The way she flicked a finger, and my reciprocating response of uncrossing my legs, moving my knees apart, giving her a view beneath the short dress I was wearing. Letting her see the tiniest bit of white lace of my panty. Gawd, why did I want her approval of my classless display? Then, like a marionette at the end of a string, the mysterious puppet master moved her fingers again, and I released the buttons at the front of my dress, … peeling the lapel aside to expose my bra-less breast. Her smile suddenly seemed sinister, giving me the shakes and nearly toppling my wine glass, yet I continued to keep myself opened to her. I didn’t trust myself to take a much needed drink, as I watched her remove her lipstick from her clutch, and slowly trace out something on her napkin before holding it up for me to see, before rising from her seat and walking out of the hall.“Come With Me, slut” -- source link