“Sorry I'm late,” he says.
As he briskly removes his quilted jacket and shakes the rain from his hair, droplets fling onto the white table cloth. A few land in the half-empty breadbasket, the contents of which are no longer steaming as they had been when the waiter first brought it to the table.
“I’m Paul,” he says, extending his hand to her.
Chloe scoffs, rolling her eyes at the gesture—a bit too proper for someone who couldn’t even be bothered to account for the weather in rush hour traffic. Not to mention that now he's interrupting wherever the night had been headed with the beautiful stranger at the bar, the one Chloe has been eye-fucking the whole time she’s been waiting for him.
She shakes Paul’s outreached hand anyway, hoping he doesn’t mistake the flush in her cheeks and cold sweat on her palms as a side effect of his presence.
“Chloe,” she says, taut. For one horrific moment when he hesitates, she suspects he might bring her fingers to his lips, oblivious to her annoyance. Much to her relief, he releases his grip and narrows his eyes at the open bottle of wine chilling in an ice bucket between them instead.
His brow arches. “Oh,” he says, frowning at the centerpiece, digging his wallet out of his pocket. “I see you’ve helped yourself. Not too expensive for a first date, I trust?”
It’s not just his words, but the screech of the chair and stench of cheap cologne that makes her wrinkle her nose. Sighing, she looks over and catches a glimpse of the pretty blonde at the bar again, who appears to be enjoying herself, giggling and brushing up against one of the men she entered with. He is sporting a classic tailored suit and slicked-back hair, smiling down at her fondly, as he drapes himself over her shoulder.
But she doesn’t miss the way the blonde's attention keeps drifting away from their stubbly beards and shapely forearms and back to Chloe’s table. Her gaze flickers between Chloe and her intruder.
Chloe stifles a laugh. She wasn’t much invested in being set up with her mother’s colleague son to begin with. But she does find it a little funny, now that he’s finally here, that he’s intruding on his own date.
Her admirer is clearly still interested, setting her sights now on Chloe’s bare legs. Sucking in a breath, Chloe steels herself before crossing her knees. Her fingers twitch, but she fights the instinct to stop her skirt from rising at the side where the slit reveals her thigh. She clenches her thighs as she leans forward, and offers up a lovely view of her tits, not at all for Paul’s benefit.
It’d be a shame to let this dress go to waste at any rate.
“You’re in the clear,” Chloe says, doing nothing to hide the sarcasm dripping from her tone. “It was a gift.”
His unkempt brows disappear behind his fringe. “Someone you know?”
“Nope,” she replies, folding her arms, pointer finger tapping against her bicep.
He waits for her to elaborate.
Cocking her head to the side, she opts for playing dumb instead.
“Well, I guess we owe our mysterious onlooker a thank you,” he remarks after a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“My,” Chloe corrects.
His lips press together in a tight line. “What?”
“You were nowhere to be found,” she reminds him. “So she is my mysterious onlooker, no?”
His pupils dilate, jaw unclenching. “She?”
She stiffens and nods, loathing how much she can anticipate his next response.
“Well, I guess I have nothing to worry about then.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” she counters, sighing at his baffled expression.
It’s 2019, Paul.
It takes a few seconds for her words sink in and then, “Oh!” His face brightens, morphing into one of delight, as he glances around the restaurant, like a dog sniffing out his new favorite toy.
“I need to use the ladies' room,” she snaps, cutting off what was sure to be another request for a threesome from a straight man.
It’s not that she has anything against them—threesomes, or straight men in general. But she certainly won’t be entertaining anything with this one anytime soon, alone or with a partner.
Paul’s mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish washed up on the shore. She might have thought he was mildly handsome under different circumstances, but she has a habit of detesting anything that will please her mother, one of the reasons she has refused to bring a man home in years.
Chloe straightens her spine and walks tall away from their table. Her neck tingles as she passes the blonde woman, who is still nursing the same glass of whiskey, and her entourage. The sting of her crystal eyes tracking her trajectory prickles every inch of Chloe’s exposed skin.
Chloe hastens into the bathroom and blows out a deep breath once inside. She blinks at her reflection and rights her dress, and makes sure she’s alone before shamelessly adjusting her tits. Her palms linger, caressing and squeezing, imagining another pair of hands covering her own.
She could leave if she wanted. Just scrawl her number on a paper towel for her new crush and then sneak out the back. Then start a nice warm bath once back in her apartment, teasing herself with her favorite rabbit vibrator. Dragging out her orgasm until she comes, fantasizing about those sunlit locks tangled through her fingers and soft rose kisses between her thighs.
Her mother would be livid at for ditching Paul, making it all the more tempting.
With a sigh, Chloe runs the cold water in the sink, but just as she’s about to splash her flushed face, the door swings open, startling her. She gasps and clutches her chest. The ocean-eyed beauty in the mirror holds eye contact with Chloe as the door clicks shut behind her.
“Hello,” she says, calm and sweet with a soft hum of approval as her gaze lowers a fraction and Chloe’s nipples harden beneath her stare.
Momentarily forgetting how to speak, Chloe’s mouth snaps shut. The other woman’s lips curl into a soft grin, closing the distance to lean around Chloe and turn off the faucet.
“I’m Vivian,” she says, resting her hip against the counter, tugging her golden locks to one side to expose her neck and angling her body towards Chloe in the process. Chloe’s breath hitches, as she imagines running her fingers down Vivian’s clavicle.
Chloe swallows. “Hi,” she says. Vivian arches a brow with such precision that Chloe's convinced she must have practiced that look at least a dozen times before. She clears her throat before adding, “I’m Chloe.”
“Hi, Chloe,” she murmurs, as a lover might from between the sheets. “It’s nice to meet you.” She doesn’t reach out to take her hand. Instead, she seems to be waiting for Chloe’s next move.
Chloe wipes her palms on her dress, before wriggling them together. “You have a fine taste,” she murmurs and immediately regrets it. Vivian’s eyes light up, teeth sinking into her ruby painted lip to stifle her laughter. “—in wine!” Chloe finishes quickly, blood rushing to her cheeks again.
There’s a startling contrast between how controlled she is when men fawn over her, to how quickly she is reduced to a pool of mush when she is caught in the sights of a pretty lady. Vivian licks her lips and all at once the only thing Chloe can focus on is how her mouth looks as inviting and red and sweet as the wine poured into her glass, empty and abandoned at the table.
Along with her date.
There must be something in her expression that’s easy to read, because the next thing Vivian says is, “How long before you need to get back?”
Chloe could tell her that she’s already planning an escape route, maybe even invite Vivian to come home with her. But the low huskiness of Vivian’s voice and flash of danger in her eyes spark Chloe’s curiosity past the point of no return. How far would they be willing to go here?
Chloe’s heart quickens, as she lifts her chin and musters up the courage to say, “However long it takes.”
Vivian’s eyes widen a fraction, apparently taken aback by this sudden forwardness. Chloe wonders if she has made an awful mistake.
She isn’t left wondering for long.
Time speeds up. One moment Chloe’s feet are steady on the floor and the next her backside pressed up against the sink while ridiculously soft fingers roam her torso, reaching upwards to trace her jaw, asking for permission. Chloe releases a shuddering breath and words escape her, before she’s frantically nodding into the kiss, hands skimming up Vivian’s silk blouse to knead her warm flesh.
Chloe swallows Vivian’s moan as she moves to ruck up Chloe’s navy dress. “Can I—”
“If you don’t, I will,” Chloe admits.
Vivian beams at her and she melts into a puddle under her touch. “Up,” she commands and then adds, teasingly, “I want to see how fine my taste is.”
Chloe buries her face in Vivian’s neck, sucking a mark onto her pulse point and nipping at her shoulder before obeying, hopping up onto the counter. A strangled gasp leaves Chloe’s mouth when her bare skin hits the cool metal.
Vivian shushes her, a gentle, “I got you,” passing her lips, breath tickling her chin.
Chloe’s stomach swoops as Vivian glides between her legs. She tugs the dip of her dress down like she’s unwrapping a present and swirls her tongue around her nipple like it’s her favorite flavor of ice cream.
Chloe hisses at the sudden scrape of her teeth. “Wait—”
Vivian stills, instantly pulling back to check her over. “What’s wrong?”
“The door—” she pants. “Is it locked?”
Vivian’s smile is predatory. “Maybe,” she hedges, “if you want it to be.” Her lips brush against Chloe’s ear. “But isn’t it hotter, not knowing if that inconsiderate boyfriend of yours will come barreling through here only to find my tongue buried deep in your cunt?”
Her moan is feral and yeah, maybe she should explain that Paul is most definitely not her boyfriend, but she’s not going to ruin this moment.
Their eyes meet again, mouth tumbling after. Vivian’s determination rolls off of her in waves, searching every inch of her skin, latching onto whatever sensitive flesh will make her shudder and gasp. Chloe’s dress doesn’t even look like dress anymore, tucked up above the swell of her ass and down exposing her pebbled nipples to the air. Vivian rolls one of them between her forefinger and thumb, sucking the other into her mouth with kitten licks and nips.
“You’re not playing fair,” Chloe mutters, as Vivian draws her lips away with a pop, rewarding her with a seductive smirk.
“I don’t like rules.” The confession rolls off her tongue like it’s the world’s dirtiest secret. “But I do like keeping track of the ones I break.”
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Chloe groans while arching her back as Vivian slides her soaked lace panties down her legs and stuffs them into her purse.
“I’ll make up for it later,” she promises, the implication alone sending a thrill up Chloe’s spine. Vivian sinks down to the floor. “Spread your legs for me, love.”
Chloe’s head drops back and hits the mirror at the words. The ghost of a kiss finds the inside of her knee.
“That’s it,” Vivian cues. Her praise does wonders to Chloe’s body, sending a shiver straight to her clit. Chloe briefly wonders if this is the work of some benevolent god, given that she was praying for this exact scenario not five minutes earlier.
She’ll worry about which religion to convert to later.
She looks down just in time to catch Vivian in the act of sliding two fingers past her lips, sucking and coating them in spit. It’s probably not necessary, given that Chloe is practically vibrating with arousal, but Vivian makes a show of it and she’s such a pretty picture like this.
Hell, I’m certainly not going to stop her.
Vivian’s smile is coy when she catches Chloe ogling her, like she knows all the filthy thoughts running through Chloe’s mind.
“Relax,” she says between quick breaths as she presses in closer. Chloe grips Vivian’s free hand. Vivian flips it over lacing their fingers together, causing Chloe’s heart to halt and stutter against her ribs. “We’re both going to enjoy this.”
Vivan’s nose brushes up against Chloe's clit, breathing her in and sending small puffs of air over her center. Then, she pauses, leaving Chloe wanting for a moment. Vivant waits right up until Chloe begins to squirm, until a soft please leaves her lips. And then, as if that’s what she was waiting for, one long finger slips inside Chloe with ease, the familiar pressure causing Chloe’s eyes to roll back.
It’s been too long since anyone has done this for her.
Vivian presses a chaste kiss to Chloe’s clit before diving her tongue between her folds, humming and vibrating against her. Chloe is absolutely up the wall with need, each new sensation igniting a white fire in her veins. She explores Chloe’s cunt just like she explored the rest of her, thoroughly mapping her entire body with mouth and tongue and fingers.
Vivian drags this out, until Chloe is dripping and pleading for her to return her attention to that bundle of nerves, before sliding another finger inside, curling at the knuckles and playing Chloe's g-spot like a piano key. She learns fast, discovering where to apply more pressure each time Chloe lets out the most embarrassing noises, and exactly how much it takes to make Chloe sing. Her toes curl as Vivian finds that sweet spot again and again.
“Hush,” Vivian murmurs from above her clit, causing her to jerk against Vivian’s mouth. “You don’t want anyone bursting in here to check on us now, do you?” Chloe involuntarily clenches down on her fingers and she feels Vivian’s smirk sweep across her inner thigh. “Or perhaps you do,”—tsk-tsk—“Naughty girl.”
With those words echoing in her mind, Chloe’s orgasm builds inside her. Every thrust of Vivian’s fingers, and every twist of her tongue brings Chloe closer to release.
Chloe threads her fingers through Vivian’s hair as delicately she can manage, but when they tighten and tug in spite of her care, Vivian’s movements grow more eager. She rolls her tongue harder against Chloe's clit, crooking her knuckles deeper.
There’s a sharp knock on the door and Chloe gasps; the jump sends her right over the edge. She tightens and snaps, riding out her orgasm on Vivian’s face, biting her fist to muffle her screams. Her vision whites out and legs shake. Vivian slows her pace, gently licking around Chloe's folds as she comes down from her high.
The deep voices behind the door grow louder and more urgent. Chloe nearly panics but Vivian takes care of it. She pulls away far enough to shout, “Just give us a minute, we’re dealing with some girly issues if you catch my drift.”
Chloe might have laughed if she wasn’t so exhausted.
Once the footsteps fade away, Vivian rests her head against Chloe’s thigh, looking through her lashes. “You good?” she asks softly.
Chloe nods and she smiles back at her, standing to help Vivian pull her dress back down. Chloe thinks about asking for her panties back, but decides it would be better to save it as an excuse to see Vivian again.
She hops down and reaches for Vivian’s hand, stilling herself. “Will I be able to return the favor?”
Vivian cocks her head, licking the taste of Chloe from the seam of her lips. She tries not to, but Chloe can’t help the shiver that travels up her spine at the sight.
“Is that your way of asking for my number?” Vivian asks, coy.
Hesitating only a moment, Chloe replies, “Actually I was asking if you’d like to come home with me.”
Vivian's smooth brow creases, eyes widening. “That’s rather bold of you.”
Chloe bites her cheek to keep from snorting. “Not nearly as bold as fucking another person’s date on a public bathroom counter.”
“That’s fair.” She hums. “You’re going to break that poor boy’s heart, you know.”
Chloe's nose wrinkles. “Doubtful, we’d only just met.”
“So did we,” Vivian counters.
Chloe leans forward, lacing their fingers together. “And do I have the power to break your heart, Viv?”
Vivian catches her grin between her teeth. “I think I’d like to find out, love.”
Brina Ryce is a cis woman who enjoys exploring her bisexuality through erotic fiction. In her spare time, she’s busy pretending she's an adult, spilling tea, going on spontaneous political rants, and being surprisingly pretentious about beer (considering how little she knows about beer). She has a husband and a Siberian Husky who adore her, along with two cats who mostly just tolerate her. They are all currently living their best lives as special little snowflakes somewhere in Ohio.