"It appears that this is the only available chair. Would you care to share my table?" he said.
Her first reaction was to decline his invitation, but that little voice inside was shouting "Go for it!"
"Why, thank you. How generous of you," she said.
Just before her ass met the chair she thought about what might happen when it did. It was too late to pull out. Her ass settled onto the hard, wooden seat and the spiked weight dug into the opening of her cunt. For an instant she imagined that someone was jamming pieces of bamboo under her fingernails, only it felt incredibly good. She knew that she had shuddered slightly, and that her back had gone as rigid as a flag pole, but more than that what concerned her were the tears that were already blurring her vision. Trying to look as casual as possible she reached into her purse for a hank and gently wiped her eyes.
"You OK?" the driver asked.
"Oh, it's nothing," Maria said with a laugh. "Just a little allergy."
"I'm Vince," he said, holding out his hand.
Maria deftly transferred her hanky to her left hand and introduced herself.
The coffee bar was normally self serve, but Vince somehow got special treatment. One of the counter girls appeared out of nowhere and moments later Maria was enjoying a glass of iced coffee. She truly doubted that she would have been capable of going inside to order it herself.
They settled easily into polite conversation. She found out that Vince was a graphic artist working for one of the larger ad firms. She also found that there was nothing about him that warranted a reduction in score. He was the infamous perfect ten.
"Listen," he said, his tone becoming slightly strained. "I hope you don't think I'm being rude, but would you like to have dinner with me? Tonight?"
Maria had been longing for him to show some kind of interest in her, but she had not been prepared for it. Again her first reaction was to decline, and again the little voice inside her was screaming at her to accept. Another part of her, a much more calm and reflective part, was cautioning her that even though he seemed to be a perfect guy she had no way of knowing if he had any interest in fulfilling her desire to be tied down and tickled without mercy.
Seeing her hesitation, he struggled to sell her on the idea.
"I'm not talking about anything fancy. I mean, it's a little too late to get started on something like that. You look great, just the way you are now -- I'm the one who is a bit bedraggled. I do know some great places to eat that don't need reservations and all that. Thai food, perhaps? What do you say?"
"Why, ah, yes. That would be very nice."
Where those words had come from she had no idea.
"Great!" he said, looking very relieved. Maria rather liked the fact that he had not assumed that she would take him up on his offer.
"How shall we do this?" he asked. "I mean, I suppose you have your car here."
"Yes," she replied, "and I really would like to stop by my place before going anywhere."
"Listen, why don't I follow you to your place and we'll take my car from there?"
"That sounds fine," she said, "as long as you don't mind waiting in your car. Guest parking is practically non- existent in my building. By the time you find a place on the street all the restaurants will be closed."
"That's fine with me. Just one thing, though. Whatever you do, don't change."
"Change?" she said, rather startled.
"I mean your clothes," he said, suddenly looking nervous again. "Don't get me wrong, Maria. I like you very much. It's just that, well, I am a sucker for women in silk. Stuff like what you're wearing. It's, ah, what can I say? Really beautiful! So feminine."
A pang of curiosity throbbed in her chest. 'Does my perfect ten have a flaw after all?' she thought. 'A fetish for silk. This could be no flaw at all, depending on what he wants to do with it.'
"Mmm," she murmured, looking slyly at him. "A man who admits to enjoying silk. And satin, too, no doubt. The men I've known have either been clueless about its possibilities or too shy to admit any interest. In fact, they usually are only too eager to get whatever I'm wearing off. Too bad, really, because I love the way it feels. So light, and yet so . . . sensuous."
Maria was surprised at her own frankness. Up until the end of her little speech, that is. She had wanted to say 'ticklish,' but the word just wouldn't come out. Even so, she thought she had struck a nerve in Vince, because while she spoke he started to squirm a little and his eyes burned with desire.
"That's very unusual to hear, from a woman I mean," he said. She could see that he was struggling to sound calm.
"Why is that?" she asked.
"Because, well, most women relate to clothes on the basis of how they look. The image they project. I've never met a woman who admitted to enjoying the way something like what you have on can feel."
"Is that what you like about silk? The way it feels?"
"In a way," he said. "When I was young I used to be thrilled by the idea of a woman enjoying the feel of a good silk or satin dress caressing her body. When I was finally old enough to ask, the women I asked all acted as though it was a ridiculous idea. So, even though I still like to see a woman wearing something silky, I've kind of given up on the idea of them actually enjoying the way it feels."
Maria laughed softly and said, "Well, Vince, you just haven't asked the right woman!"
The turn the conversation had taken had re-kindled her arousal, and the act of laughing had made the rosebud nudge once more against her swollen clit. The combination of coming so close to admitting her passion for wearing silk and satin to such an attractive man, hearing him talk about his interest in the same thing, the very real pleasure of being gently tickled all over by her silky rayon outfit, and on top of all that the continuous torment she had been enduring from her clit gave the moment an almost surreal quality.
She had no misgivings about wearing her outfit to dinner. It was the clit teaser that was really driving her out of her mind. The only reason she wanted to stop by her place was to take the devilish thing off and slip on a little thong panty. It just wouldn't do, she thought, to end up in bed with him and have him discover that she was wearing such a kinky thing, or for that matter no panties at all. That little voice inside her was shouting 'Wear the clit teaser all evening!' but at this her rational side drew the line.
Just then the Japanese couple Maria had seen driving through the parking lot came strolling down the sidewalk. This time she had a good view of what the girl was wearing, and the sight of it made her skin tingle. They stopped to look in the window of the coffee bar, just a few feet from where she and Vince were sitting. She stole a glance at Vince, and just as she expected he was staring at the girl. His eyes shifted to hers, and they both burst out laughing.
For Maria it was sheer agony. Seeing how the girl was dressed and recalling what was going on in the car had fanned her desire into a raging inferno. The laughter again set the rosebud to sucking her clit, scraping the fine bristles over its tender nerves until it almost felt as though someone had touched it with a red hot poker. She gripped the edge of the little table to steady herself, so hard that the tips of her fingers turned white. Vince didn't seemed to notice.
She had been right about the girl's blouse. In fact her entire outfit looked as though it were made of exactly the same odd fabric as Maria's. The jumper did remind her of a schoolgirl's uniform, but only because the front came up to cover her breasts and it had shoulder straps that crisscrossed in back. Unlike Maria's, the blouse was slightly sheer -- just enough to show a shadowy outline of her arms and torso. The front of the jumper kept her small breasts from showing, and it was obvious from the back that she was not wearing a bra.
The jumper's skirt was pleated, but not like any schoolgirl uniform Maria had ever seen. The pleats were small, and done so that they stood on edge. That and the suppleness of the fabric made the skirt move quite provocatively. The slightest movement sent the hem swirling around her thighs. More significantly, no schoolgirl uniform had the sheen that this one had, that lustrous quality that seemed to advertise an appreciation for sensuality.
The pleats made her think of Jim, of all those times she had watched him writhing in ecstasy as she teased his cock with skirts like that. The way he looked jerking against the bonds that held him in the chair, his cries of anguish, the beads of sweat that ran down his face, that special look of desperation when he managed to go all the way and spew his cum all over the skirt that she tormented him with. If he had been there she would have pointed the girl out to him, perhaps even whispering in his ear how much she wanted to use the girl's skirt on him. Whenever she did that he'd go into a kind of trance, staring glassy eyed at the woman she had pointed out. Those moments always lead to especially passionate sessions as soon as they were alone, regardless of whether or not he asked to be bound and slowly teased to orgasm. Maria was filled with desire by the memories of those times, even though she still felt sad about them being gone from her life.
The rest of the girl's look was equally enticing, at least for a man with a predilection for young girls. Her shoulder length hair was pulled back into twin pony tails. Her shoes were shiny black patent leather, with rounded toes and flat heels and a little strap that passed over the top of her foot. She even was wearing white ankle-high socks with frilly lace around the top, and no stockings. All she needed was a book bag to complete the image.
It was a remarkable combination of innocence and allure. Maria decided that it would be a wonderful outfit to be tickled in.
When the couple had walked further along the sidewalk Maria turned back to Vince and smiled.
"I thought you'd like that," she said, almost forgetting that it was not Jim sitting across from her.
"Oh my! It does seem to be a field day for seeing women dressed the way I like. Except that she didn't look a day over sixteen. Since when did Japanese girls start wearing silk uniforms?"
"Oh, I'm certain she's much older than that," Maria chuckled. "and not nearly as innocent as she looks. I saw them drive by, just as I was crossing over to this side. It was the darnedest thing. I saw the man tickling her on the knee. I had this sudden inspiration, like a vision, that she liked it, that she is dressed that way to please him and that they were going someplace where he could tie her up and tickle her."
To Maria it felt as though she had just spilled her drink in Vince's lap. He was staring at her, frozen as if in shock and totally uncertain as to how he should react. At the same time she could not believe what she had just said. The words had come so easily, but as soon as she had spoken them she wished that she could somehow pluck them out of the air, that she could rewind the tape and shoot the scene again. All she could do is wait and see how he reacted.
"Did you say tickle her?" he asked incredulously. "Tie her up and tickle her?"
He didn't sound at all upset. Deeply curious, and enthused. When he finished speaking he was grinning from ear to ear.
"Ah, well . . . yes. It was like dream. A sudden vision. Obviously I was wrong, because they're still here."
"You want to know what I was thinking, from the moment I saw them? That he had bought her that outfit, and asked her to wear it without any underwear, because of how ticklish it feels to wear. That just walking around in it is tickling her half to death. Almost like torture, only without any pain."
"Wow!" Maria exclaimed softly. "That's amazing. We both felt something so similar."
"Well, I know why I thought that," Vince said with a smile. It was the first time Maria had seen him look relaxed since they had spotted the couple a few minute ago, and it helped her to relax too.
"You recall what I said, about my passion for women in silk? That's a big part of it. The idea that what they are wearing feels terribly ticklish. In a very sexy kind of way. Even that girl's skirt is special to me. I loved to imagine that a pleated skirt made of the right fabric would do an especially good job of tickling a woman's ass and thighs."
Now it was his turn to sit back and see how she would react. She swallowed hard, frantically running through what she could say. Her first reaction was to gush about how wonderful it felt to meet a man who shared her peculiar interest. Then she decided that the time was not right for anything so direct, and settled on trying to be flirtatious.
"So, that's why you asked me to join you. Does it interest you to know that I'm not wearing much of anything under this outfit for that very reason? That I adore the way the fabric tickles me, constantly, so much that I can hardly stand it?"
His grin almost became a frown. "Not if you're only saying that to please me."
"What if I insist that it's the truth?"
This time he hesitated, but gradually his grin returned.
"Then I'd have to say that you are the most desirable woman I have ever met. That ten years ago I was searching endlessly for a woman like you, and finally gave it up, resigning myself to the fact that my feelings were totally out of touch with reality."
"Have you ever wanted to tickle a woman?" she asked. "I mean, besides having her clothes tickle her, did you think about, like, tying her up and tickling her feet?"
"Endlessly," he sighed. "Especially with her wearing black nylon stockings. And breasts. The thought of woman in a thin satin blouse, bound to a big, heavy chair with her arms tied behind her, writhing and squealing as I run my fingernails gently over her nipples, helpless, unable to make it stop. Scenes like that send me right through the roof!"
"Mmm. Sounds heavenly," Maria said as coyly as possible. "I've never done anything like that, but I've often thought about it. But before we try something like that, I say we get something to eat. I'm famished!"
* The End *