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Tell Me A Story, Desdmona
illustration by garv

A View to a Thrill

By Desdmona

This story contains sexually explicit scenes.

“The Cheshire Cat” was my favorite bar in town. The lights were low, the air was smoky, and the music never stopped. The ambiance was always ripe for seduction on any given night. So I was delighted when Ben called and invited me for a few drinks and a little dancing. Ben was a smooth dancer; his lean, muscular frame sucked up a song, and he became temptation in motion. He would nestle against me like he was casting a mold and then compel me to move with him. It didn’t matter if the music was fast or slow, we’d cling together like a grafted tree. I shivered in anticipation as I stepped inside.

The atmosphere was as expected: dark, warm, and scintillating. Natalie Cole’s silky voice emanated from the speakers, mixing with hushed conversations. Ben spotted me before I saw him and was waving with both arms like a traffic controller. I walked towards him, knowing the heels I wore gave a little bounce to my step. It was why I’d hastily removed my bra in the car. My nipples stiffened when the fabric of my blouse shifted.

“Nice to see you’re at your peak tonight, Fiona,” he grinned as he stood to greet me.

“Oh, I’m not quite at my peak yet, but I have high hopes.” I gave him a flirty wink and grinned back.

Ben kissed me before whispering close to my ear, “Damn, baby, you look hot.”

I slipped into the booth and purposely let my skirt slide up my thigh. Ben watched with avid approval before taking his seat across from me.

“Well, I knew I was meeting you, so I tried a little harder.” I said it glibly, so I wasn’t sure Ben realized it was the truth.

The waitress picked that moment to approach our table. Ben was already drinking a beer. I ordered a Guinness. We both watched the waitress walk away. She was wearing a tight, black skirt and a T-shirt that had “The Cheshire Cat” emblazoned across her back. I wondered if Ben found her appealing.

“You’re the one with the pussy that makes me grin, baby.” He’d read my mind.

I rolled my eyes, but my insides turned to Jell-o.

“C’mon Ben, let’s dance!”

I wiggled out of the booth and Ben eagerly followed. The music had changed to a sensual New Flamenco tune. Ben grabbed me and pulled me close. Both his arms wrapped around me as he reached down and cupped my ass. He ground against me, and I could feel his cock harden near my groin. I wilted against him, letting his strength hold me, press into me, and excite me. My heartbeat plucked out the rhythm of the guitarist, forcing fiery blood to pulse through me. I rotated my hips to match his, never breaking the contact. We swayed in a body lock without talking, until the song ended. Another song followed, and another. All seemingly chosen to inject fire into our veins.

By the end of the third song, my skin was hot and my throat was dry. I reluctantly pulled away. Ben’s brandy-colored eyes twinkled as he looked at me.

“Need a drink?” He’d read my mind again.

“Hmm, I need lots of things,” I offered suggestively. “But a drink will do.”

We returned to our table, my Guinness was there and I drank it nearly half gone.

“Damn! Fiona, how can you drink that swill?”

“Genetics?” I cheekily answered. “I don’t know, I just like it.”

“That stuff will put hair on your chest.”

I made a show of pulling out my blouse and looking down it, before answering, “It hasn’t yet! Want to see?”

“Hell, yeah, I want to see.” Ben hungrily licked his lips.

I looked around to see if anyone was watching us. Ben looked too. We both noticed a couple across the room at the same time. Well, I thought it was a couple. It was hard to tell. All I could see was the back of a man draped over his partner in a groping exhibition.

“Do you think they liked the way we danced? Ben asked.

“I seriously doubt they saw anything from that position,” I quipped. We both laughed, and I downed the rest of my drink.

Ben and I both looked back at the couple. I caught a glimpse of her bare midriff when they shifted. Her petite hands petted his ass as he leaned over her. It was very erotic – those slim fingers caressing in time with Bryan Adams singing, “Everything I Do, I Do For You.”

“Who says you have to go to an R-rated film to be entertained?” Ben said.

“I don’t know, but just like at the movies, I have to pee at the best part. I’ll be right back.”

I scooted out of the booth and straightened my skirt around my hips before leaving. I got most of the way across the room before I stopped and sneaked a peek back at Ben. As I hoped, he was watching me walk away. I smiled, squeezed my ass cheeks and swayed my hips the rest of the way to the ladies room.

I sashayed through the door into the brightly lit, white-tiled room and did a quick once over in the mirror. I looked over my shoulder as I walked toward the stall so I could see what Ben had been looking at. Not bad, maybe too wide to walk down a runway, but good enough to keep Ben looking.

I picked a middle stall, sat down on the paper covered toilet seat, and let the result of the Guinness have its way. The door to the restroom slammed open and the room was filled with voices. The shock of sudden sound brought my urinating to a halt – probably due to leftover childhood anxiety about peeing in a public place. It did no good to tell my bladder we were in a bathroom, and everyone else was there for the same activity.

The new arrivals weren’t paying attention to what was going on inside the stalls anyway. There was a lot of giggling. From where I sat, I figured there were two of them, one with a distinctly male voice. I leaned forward and peeked through the space where the stall door latched. Sure enough, it was a couple, the same pair Ben and I had just been watching. The guy grabbed a trashcan and jimmied it against the door.

“C’mon Stacy, nobody can see us now.” His voice echoed against the tiled walls.

“Somebody could be in here, Josh. Check the stalls.”

I saw Josh bend at the waist, looking for feet. In that split second, I raised my legs, holding my knees in a gynecological pose. The paper beneath me rustled, but it went unnoticed. Josh’s mind obviously wasn’t on detective work.

After a cursory glance, he stood up straight and announced, “All clear Stace. Now where were we?” With his back now to the stall, I could put my legs back down. I slowly let my feet return to the floor and leaned forward to peek out again.

‘Stace’ was leaning forward, supporting her weight with one hand on the sink, while she dabbed at her make-up. Josh moved up behind her, slipped his hands under her arms and grabbed her breasts. She moaned and leaned back into him, covering his hands with her own and squeezing. She guided one of his hands down over her bare midriff and into the front of her low-rise jeans. I could see Josh’s hand burrow in, well past his wrist. Stacey slipped her hand around her back, between their bodies. She closed her eyes and her head lulled back on his shoulder. Her ass butted up against his front. She moved her feet a little further apart, and Josh took advantage by digging deeper in her pants.

I’d never thought of myself as a voyeur, but right now, I understood the appeal. There was something vividly nasty about sitting on a toilet with my skirt hiked up around my waist, watching another couple. Maybe it was the Guinness, or the dancing with Ben, but I was horny as hell. I briefly quibbled with the idea of friggin’ myself. What if I got caught? There was too much irony to give credence to that argument, besides I wanted to touch myself. I wanted to feel my heat. I was aching to feel it. My pussy lips were puffy as I dug in between. I was wet – thin, watery wet mixed with a more viscous wet. I could have closed my eyes and gotten off in seconds, but it was more exciting to wait. So I put a finger on either side of my clit and pressed downward, teasing without bringing conclusion.

When I peeked back out, Stacey was leaning forward, both hands resting on the porcelain sink. Her jeans were in a puddle at her feet. Josh unzipped his jeans. He pushed them down his thighs just enough for his butt to come into view. His ass was the same color as the porcelain and just as smooth. My eyes were drawn to the line of his crack. I followed it down until I reached his hairless, corrugated pouch. It was cherry red.

I couldn’t see the area of contact between the two, but Stacey’s loud groan and her mask of lust, visible in the mirror, told me Josh had hit his target. My eyes returned to his ass. His cheeks began to contract as he drove forward, causing a concave dip at the outside musculature. I wanted to grab that spot, nuzzle my face against his ass. Instead I slinked my fingers around my heated cunny.

I breathed in tiny puffs, struggling to remain quiet. I wished Ben were here to see this with me. As my heart pounded in my chest, sweat points over my body started to itch. A memory of playing hide-n-seek in the dark as a kid flashed in my mind. Desperately hiding, but still able to see what was going on, with my body tense, and fighting off jitters of being caught. The feeling was the same: exhilaration. My bladder started to burn.

Stacey bent over nearly limp across the sink. Josh’s reflection showed his face taut with concentration. His nostrils flared with each thrust, his face grew moist, and he bit his lower lip. But it was his eyes that goaded my epicurean fingers – dark blue orbs that stared right at me!

I gasped. Apparently, I wasn’t as artful in hiding as I had thought. Obviously it didn’t bother Josh, he plunged so vigorously into Stacey, I imagined it shook the entire bathroom, including where I was sitting. As he gave her a ride, I pushed my finger inside and started matching his motion. Thrust for thrust. Josh continued to look at me. I didn’t dare blink. I’m not sure I could have anyway. I was in a feverish fugue state – some shift from reality into fantasy – so much so that when my orgasm detonated, it shocked me. It rumbled through me unlike anything I’d felt in a very long time, and I shrieked.

I heard Josh’s final grunt and Stacey’s yelp of horror. I grabbed my panties and jerked them up. I tried to rearrange my skirt as I barreled out of the stall and headed to the door. I avoided looking at Josh and Stacey as I pushed the trashcan out of the way and hurried out.

The dark, smoky room momentarily blinded me. As I blinked, trying to adjust my vision, the loud clang of a metal trashcan hitting tile echoed behind me. My sight cleared just in time to see fifteen or twenty pair of eyes staring at me. My cheeks burned with embarrassment. Ben’s blond head suddenly became my lighthouse in the storm, guiding me to safety. I nearly ran to it.

“Hurry Ben, let’s go!”

“What the heck was that all about, Fiona?”

“I’ll tell you later, let’s just go.” I watched as Ben leaned back against the booth seat, resting his arm along the top, in an easy relaxed pose.

“Fiona, I think you should sit down for a second.”

“No, no! We have to go.” I was sure Josh and Stacey would be out any second to confront me. I yanked on Ben’s arm to get him to move, but it was like pulling on an anchored ship.

“Fiona, sweety, trust me, sit down for just a minute.” Ben’s voice was lowered to a soft caress, but his eyes danced with mischief. He nodded his head toward the seat. I glared at him and then peeked at the ladies room entrance. The door remained shut. Against my wishes, I did as he said and scooted into the booth across from him, but I wasn’t finished letting him know what I wanted.

“Ben, I just want to go.”

“We’ll go in a second, I promise. Tell me what that was all about.”

I looked around; nearly everyone had gone back to his or her drink and their own party. Only one woman still looked at me, talking to her partner behind a cupped hand over her mouth. She and her partner both smirked and then broke into laughter. The heat rose up my neck and over my face once again. My embarrassment began to change into indignation. It hadn’t been that funny!

I looked back at Ben. He barely contained his grin.

“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Ben Stedman!”

“I’ll make a deal with you. I won’t laugh now, but later, we can laugh together.”

Ben was calm and sweet, and a little ornery. I couldn’t resist him.

“I suppose it is a little funny, but believe me, you don’t know the half of it.”

He leaned conspiratorially towards me and reached to hold my hands. “So tell me the half of it!”

“Well, when I was in the bathroom, minding my own business, the couple that was getting off,” I nodded my head toward their booth, “came into the bathroom and finished what they had started.”

“Right in front of you?” Ben asked.

“Uh, not exactly ‘right’ in front of me. I was in a stall.”

“And they thought the bathroom was empty?”

“Well, I did kinda raise my feet so they couldn’t see me.” Ben released my hands and leaned back, really laughing now. He tried to cover his laughing behind his hand, but suddenly stopped, and sniffed.

He grabbed my hand again and brought it close to his nose snickering, “I guess I don’t have to ask what you were doing at the time.”

I jerked my hand back. But I couldn’t resist smelling. Sure enough, my fingers reeked from pussy. Could I be more mortified? My cheeks had the temerity to blush again. Of course Ben knew just what to say, “I hope there’s more where that came from.”

I reacted in the only way I could think of: flippantly. “For you fella, there’s always more. NOW can we leave?”

“Is that a promise of more to come?”


“In that case, I better tell you before we get up, Fiona, the paper shield from the toilet is hanging from the back of your skirt!”

I’d certainly given a holy show. So much for thinking I was done blushing for the night!

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