We’re out to eat, you and me… no one knows us, no one cares...

We’re out to eat, you and me… no one knows us, no one cares. It’s just… us. Your flirty eyes keep catching mine, and we laugh at silly things that no one but we two could understand. Knowing what I’m doing to you, I take my heels off and put my feet into your lap and instruct you not to touch. I see it on your face when you look at me, as your teeth sink into your bottom lip ~so~ hard. You’re enamored by me, and the thought crosses your mind: ‘She is incredible from head to literal toe.’ It takes everything in you to not stare, and I can see you wanting to touch, to rub, to take the whipped cream from the dessert in front of you and lick it off of my bare foot from heel to toe. But you won't, and you never will, not until I say you can. It's almost as though I have you on a leash, and you like it. You like me having a tiny bit of dominance to me. You like me being the brat that I am. Teasing, relentlessly. And I am getting more and more excited at the thought that no one else can see what I’m doing to you. My toes gliding across your thigh, “do - not - touch,” I playfully remind. You breathe heavy, looking around at the other patrons, who are in their own world. There is no one but us, no one but us together, and I love it. You take in the fact that we are, indeed, on our own, and it seems to set you at ease. I laugh, because I know how much it turns you on. It doesn't take you long to get yourself back under control, and you look back at me with your wide eyes and your full smile. “I’m going to get you back for that,” you say. It's a promise I know you’ll keep, and that is just one of the many things that I adore about you. I am about to respond with a smart remark of my own, but I’m cut off… The waitress comes over, and she's attractive. Not nearly as attractive as me, of course, but it still doesn't stop you from stealing glances. She has dark brown hair, and hazel eyes that remind me of honey. She's got curves that are just as inviting as my own, and I don't blame you for checking her out. I can tell you're sizing her up, wondering what her feet look like in those awful shoes, and I chuckle; Her feet are so tiny! I glance at you and whisper in your ear, “size13” “Check, please.”