The One Place...

He stood, dressed in a smart, three-piece suit, his back to the window and the rapidly fading light. He'd arrived early, catching her off guard and she wasn't yet fully dressed. Not that he minded. He always admired the many different choices she made from her lingerie drawer.

She had chosen with care. A bra, pants and suspenders set, all in black. Plain at the back, elegantly trimmed with lace in front. The underwired bra lifting and pushing her breasts together deliciously. Black stockings, sheer and with plain tops, wrapped her legs, the suspenders about to be attached.

She felt a tinge of disappointment, as she had intended to keep her underwear hidden for his arrival, beneath a dark burgundy dress that was hung up from the wardrobe door. On the floor, high heeled shoes were poised to complete her "look".

"You're early! Dinner's not until 7.30." She said, a little obviously, whilst shifting more than a little provocatively on the bed.

"I know." He responded. "I thought we might create our own 'starter'. You know how much I like to have your gorgeous legs wrapped around me!"

She sat silently, choosing not to respond to the unveiled suggestion in his words. Instead she chose to look at her legs, stroking each of her thighs in turn with both hands, smoothing out her stocking tops as she did so. It was an action that would normally take the briefest of moments, merely a fraction of a second. But now, under his gaze, she took her time, making sure she felt the softness and smoothness of her thighs as well as the stockings. Even the simple act of clipping the suspenders in place, finely adjusting the strips of elastic much more than was necessary.

He watched with a characteristic fascination. He always enjoyed watching her dress, though not as much as the thrills he got from seeing her undressing. That was something that never failed to excite him. As he studied her very move he allowed his hand to drop to his crotch and began to massage the fast-growing bulge that he was hiding in his trousers.

Satisfied the stockings were secure she sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to reach for her shoes, offering him a long look down at her cleavage as she did so. She fiddled with the shoes until they fitted. There were no straps but still she took longer than she needed, stroking her ankles making as if to straighten her stockings. As she leant down her breasts were bumping against her thighs. She sat back up straight, tugging at her bra straps to ensure her breasts remained firmly but comfortably in place. Only now did she look at him.

His now almost full erection was making every effort to escape his briefs. But he concealed the fact, remaining in the shadows by the window and stayed there for a minute or two studying her.

"Your lingerie looks so good on you, such good taste and sense of what suits you. You look beautiful." He said, after a while, before taking off his jacket.

He stepped forward into the light and she was instantly aware of the bulge at the front of his suit trousers. She moved as if to reach out and touch it, but instead sat with her hands just behind her on the bed and leaning back a little, opened her thighs wide apart. He stepped forward until his legs were against her crotch and she closed her legs around him, rubbing her panty covered mound against him. The bulge was too high, out of reach, but she rubbed against him just the same. She closed her eyes momentarily, long enough to absorb the feeling of her mound and her pussy against him. She was wet and the black panties were already sticking to her flesh inside. Looking him in the eyes she rubbed against him more, and more vigorously.

He rested his hands briefly on her shoulders before reaching down to feel her breasts. Her skin was warm to touch, though much of her curved flesh was hidden behind the black lace bra. He wanted to lift her breasts out from it, into the open, free them so that he could look at them again. But he resisted, unexpectedly pushing her, making her body fall back to the bed. He pushed her back further -- though not forcefully and not with any resistance - until both her body and her legs were on the bed. She was conscious that her hair was being messed up, having taken some time to style it, but she didn't care. He climbed on the bed to join her, at first at her side leaning down to kiss her mouth with a softness and gentleness in his movements that she had grown to love. Kisses, soft, gentle. Lightly applied, firmly applied. To cover her face, not just her lips, and nuzzling into her neck.

He put a hand instinctively to her stomach, drawing circles with his palm, its placement neither too high nor yet too low. Only slowly did his hand rise higher, or lower, with his teasing. In one moment fingertips brushed the cups of her bra, in the next she could feel them firmly on the outside of her pants. Higher or lower he went and more and more quickly. She could feel a heat both outside and inside her body and her flowing juices were soaking her underwear.

He wasn't growing tired of his play, but soon realised she wanted, needed something to excite her. He moved away from her until he was kneeling at the end of the bed. He pulled her feet taking them and her legs over his shoulders until she rested her bottom just on the edge of the bed. The slide had forced her pants into crack of her bottom and tight against her soaking mound. He moved his face until she could feel his breath at the top of her thighs, taking that as a signal to cross her legs behind him, wrap her legs around him, draw his face closer to her.

Her pussy was giving of her secret scent. He could sense it above the fragrance of the shower gel that she had applied barely half an hour ago, as she pushed her mound at his face. That unique smell she possessed that excited him so much. The side of his head was against her thigh and he was breathing in and out harder and more deeply. His mind was almost fuggy, a heady mix of what he could see (and wanted to see) and what he wanted to do, combined with the aroma of hot, wet pussy. He nuzzled his nose against her knickers, breathing her and feeling the wetness on his skin. Her underwear was soft and smooth, only a small lace panel decorated the pants just below the elastic of the waist band. The smoothness only disturbed by the elegantly trimmed bush underneath.

His pressure was firm, forceful and he felt her pushing harder back against him. She released a deep, throaty gasp as his nose bumped her clit, hard. Imperceptibly he replaced his nose with his tongue, licking feverishly. He didn't care that he was licking her pants, he could still taste her, feel her pussy lips under the thin film of expensive lingerie.

Unseen, and unheard by her, he had unzipped his trousers and pulled his erection from his briefs beneath. It relieved his discomfort, though he didn't play with it, just left it erect and throbbing. He wanted his hands for another use, placing them firmly under her bum and squeezing her cheeks, quite hard. Again, she gasped and was moaning now too, responding to the insistent tongue working away at the front of her knickers. Her body was moving, writhing, almost lunging at him, the only thing stopping her losing control was his firm grip on her bum. She squeezed her legs more tightly around him, making it difficult for him to move. He grabbed at her bum harder dislodging a suspender strap inadvertently and she released some of the pressure from her legs. She was panting in short sharp breaths and they both knew her orgasm was agonisingly close.

To break the spell he had over her she did her best to lever her torso up so that she rested on her arms, looking down at him. She unlocked her legs and he helped her lower them to a more comfortable position, her thighs almost touching, her feet on the floor. She stared at his lap and his cock sticking up from the gaping fly of his trousers.

"Did I do that?" she enquired, giggling. It wasn't really a question to respond to with words.

He answered by pulling her pants down to her knees momentarily, then lower over her shoes, leaving them on the floor. He pushed her knees apart, feasting his eyes on the glistening pink slit he could now see properly. She covered her mound modestly with a hand. But only for a few seconds. She was oozing juices from underneath her fingers and her pubic hair was sticky and wet. She dragged her hand up, a fingertip just between the wet lips, until that fingertip was being sucked slowly into her mouth. She was teasing him, rudely, provocatively, knowing just how much he was turned on by that simple act. She slid the hand back down her body until the finger disappeared inside her pussy. She moved it, in and out slowly, only pausing to rub two fingers over her lips and up gently on her clit. He watched, fascinated by her hand movements, but resisted the urge to play with himself. Content instead to look at her play, as she didn't often let him watch.

She was staring at him, at his cock, open mouthed and rubbing herself with practiced vigour. He studied the directions her fingers were taking, made mental note of the pressure she was applying - and where. Not that he didn't know how she liked to masturbate, it was just such a pleasure to see her do it. Fingers inside firmly, delicately outside, up and down her lips. She barely brushed her clit it was now so sensitive. Thrusting fingers inside herself, her back was arching and she was being rapidly consumed by her orgasm. Her breath was coming in short gasps and the trembling that had begun in her thighs had overtaken her whole body. She buried three fingers in her pussy as if to plug the flow of her juices. But she could not. All she could do was hold her hand between her legs, clamping her thighs tight and teasing her insides with her fingertips. Her body jerking with the waves of pleasure flooding her flesh and her senses. But that was too much, and eventually she flopped back limp onto the bed, gasping and moaning. He had his hands on her knees and her thighs continued to twitch spasmodically until she lay still and quiet.

He leaned forward and kissed her pussy. Very lightly, with a tenderness borne of the feelings he had for her. She shook briefly, making her breasts jiggle in her bra. It seemed to take an age for her breathing to return to normal and her heart rate to settle.

"Jeeeezz!! Did I really do that? I so needed to cum." she said, sighing as she sat up slowly.

"Time we were going." He answered, almost dismissively, adding "You had better get dressed. The taxi will be here soon!"

She looked at him, quizzically. She detected no reaction in him. After a moment he returned her stare, with a smile.

" I sooo love it when you play for me!!" He said and smiling more broadly. She smiled back appreciatively, before glowering at him with a cheeky grin.

"What about you? What about that?" she exclaimed, pointing at his stiff, but softening cock.

"We only had time for the starter." he said, "I've something else in mind for the main course. Later."

She got up from the bed and headed for the bathroom to freshen up. There was not much time and she was as quick as she could be. When she came back to the bedroom his trousers were neatly fastened and he was already putting his jacket back on. She hurried to her nearby dresser opening a drawer and pulling out a fresh pair of tiny black knickers.

"No" he said firmly "leave them off. And I want you to take your bra off too!"

She made a point of turning to face him, and without question reached behind her back to unfasten her bra. She removed it slowly, in the manner of a sleazy stripper, letting him see her bare breasts - and still hardened nipples - only briefly before she took up her dress from the hanger and slipped it on. He zipped it up for her without waiting to be asked.

"Nearly ready" she said, "just one thing." She paused to hitch up her dress and re-attach the suspender strap that had earlier come undone.

"There. That's better!" and smoothed out her dress neatly, stroking her bum with her hands as she did so. The smoothness felt wonderful. She picked up her handbag as he handed her a winter coat and they made to go downstairs.

Once outside she was grateful for that winter coat. The air was cold and when it was whipped up by the harsh winter wind it hit her face with a hard, icy blast and ruffled her long black hair. She tightened her woollen neck scarf and turned up the collar of the coat. She was thankful too for the thickness of her dress underneath. Though it finished just above her knees it was lined and the material thick enough to provide some real warmth. She tucked her bag under her arm for a second to pull her gloves on more firmly. As she did so, she smiled to herself at how easily she had been persuaded out of most of her underwear but feeling a small tinge of disappointment after having taken the time to choose it so carefully. He had liked her choice though -- a lot - and she already knew she would wear it for him again. They had been standing outside for barely a minute before the taxi drew up and swiftly took them to the restaurant.

The restaurant was in town, but no more than 20 minutes away. Located in a quieter side street it appeared unremarkable, apparently missing the throng of people evident in the nearby town centre this Thursday night. It was called "The One Place..." and was somewhere they both knew well but were only able to visit now and again. The frontage to the restaurant was small, modest at best, but inside was a hidden gem, genuinely "the one place" to go out and eat.

As he opened the door for her, they were met by a huge wave of heat and they were instantly aware of the noise. The atmosphere was buzzing. It was busy and it had been hard to get a table but being friends of the owners -- a married couple, Garry an Englishman, and his wife Izabella an Italian -- had given them a very useful "in". The occasion was nothing more than a dinner date, but it was all too rare a happening due to work, family and social commitments they each had, as well as those they shared.

The maître d' recognised them straight away and offered them a practiced but warm, friendly welcome and took their winter coats before steering them to a familiar table. It was not in a quiet position but neither of them minded that, they were glad to have been accommodated at such short notice. He watched her carefully and admiringly as she sat down, taking note of the full effect of her dress. He was certain other diners -- female, not just male -- would be looking too. The burgundy dress was sleeveless, with a small, neat "V" neck cut-out which stopped well above the curves of her breasts. As an additional detail there were two extra triangle shaped pieces of fabric at the front, overlaying each other and attached to the waistline and mid-thigh on each side. The dress fitted her closely, impressively and reflected both her sense of style and awareness of fashion. How he wished she wore a dress more often. He caught a glimpse of her silver necklace displayed discreetly in the "V". She made herself comfortable before flicking her hair firmly on one side with a hand, making sure he noticed the gesture.

She smiled at him. He smiled back, almost staring.

"What is it?" she asked, returning his look.

"You look fabulous." He said, making her cheeks burn as she began to blush.

"Beautiful would be more accurate." He added, only increasing the flush of red that was coming to her face.

"And......" he paused, momentarily.

"And, just thinking about what you have not got on under there!!" he said with a wicked grin. It held a very special thrill for him when she was "sans underwear".

And she always got a buzz when he randomly texted her at work to tease her about his favourite "commando".

She looked around wondering if anyone else had heard his answer and she suddenly felt very self-conscious, not that that bothered her unduly, but it did make her blush again and more than a little. Quickly though the rest of the room seemed to melt away into the background, leaving her with the excited feeling that they were the only two there.

"You are not too cold I hope?" he added, "or is the heat still burning down there from earlier?" he was none too quiet, again being deliberately rude and she stared back at him in mock anger.

"I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be out with my "Doctor No Knickers"!!" he added laughing loudly and she kicked his shin, firmly. Before he could say anymore, she had kicked him again, before laughing herself. It had been a while since she had given him reason to call her that, especially when the weather was so cold outside. He was the only one she'd ever allowed to call her that.

It was difficult to choose what to eat from the extensive array the menu had to offer. They skipped a "starter" -- she couldn't resist a naughty giggle when he told the waitress they had already had one before "coming" -- and he settled on chicken and pasta whilst she went for a favourite fish concoction. They had shared a good deal of white wine before their main courses arrived and they chatted freely and laughed a great deal. It was good for them both to talk and unwind properly. They were both relaxed and often animated. They hadn't done so this much in ages.

Whilst eating he became aware of a stockinged foot in his lap, rubbing him gently.

"So, what happened to this?" she asked, alluding to his earlier erection and the swelling now developing under her foot. "You didn't answer before. And it was such a waste of your hard-on!"

"I just tried to think about work." He said "like I am now. I want to save it, save him. For later."

She rubbed him more insistently and as the swelling grew larger she knew full well that he wasn't thinking about work. At their calling the waitress came over with a fresh bottle of wine, though that didn't stop her leaving her foot in his lap as she fixed her eyes on his, seeking a reaction in his face, but there was none. He didn't take her foot away though, choosing to massage her calf and ankle, teasing the sole of her foot through the thin layer of her stocking. He was thinking about her bra-less breasts hidden beneath her dress and what he wanted to be doing with them right now, if he could. He glanced toward the waitress and hoped his burgeoning erection remained hidden beneath his napkin. The waitress was young, but very attentive and cleared away a few items from their table. As she left them she smiled at him, knowingly, well aware of what he had tried to hide. They continued eating more quietly and only eventually did he let her take her foot away.

For dessert she had an orange and lemon "de-constructed" cheesecake, whilst he opted for a multi layered chocolate sundae. Until it had arrived she had put her other foot "there" and he had repeated the massage for her. When coffee had come, he was cradling both of her feet, pulling gently on her toes to add to the gathering sense of relaxation she felt. Welcome relief having spent most of her day at the hospital on her feet. It felt good. Very good. And she made a point of telling him so.

Over dessert she talked enthusiastically about a conference that she would be attending in June and the break of three days that would follow it. She'd talked of it before, but he remained surprisingly non-committal, which she found disappointing and frustrating in equal measure. True, his work commitments in June were extensive, but she had kept alive the hope he would be able to free himself for that week, or perhaps those few days after the conference, so they could spend the time together. She tapped and swiped on her "i-phone" for a few minutes before pushing the screen towards him across the table.

"I've narrowed it down to just three places." She said, before adding: