Naked In A Coffee Shop

I'm in Borders. I hate Borders, it makes me panic but it's got the nearest coffee shop to work and I've only got 45 minutes, 15 of which I've wasted waiting for D who is late. This is our only time together until next week, because D will be away on a course. My head is all buzzy with headachy crossness as I try to pretend I'm not irritated at his lateness. I fuel my headache with a double espresso.

My tummy flutters with butterflies, a feeling I always expect to go away but which never does. There's something about sitting in a public place, waiting for a man who I've let take appalling liberties with my body, that makes me feel that everyone can tell. It's like those dreams of being naked in public; I feel as though I'm sitting here completely naked in the coffee shop for everyone to see the pink mark of his hand on my buttock and the faded, yellowish bruises where his fingertips dug into my thigh, the deep red rope burn on my wrist and his spunk dripping from my chin. "Ah," they'll say, "she must be waiting for the man who did that to her, look how obedient she is."

As I shift in my seat, I'm guiltily aware of how tingly and damp my pussy is. I shoot surreptitious glances at the tables around me; can they tell, can they smell it on me? I'm thinking about this morning in the bathroom, idly brushing my teeth as I lean with one hand on the sink, watching him shower, the shampoo suds cascading down his back. Then bent forwards, my toothbrush clattering into the sink, toothpaste still foaming round my mouth as he bends his knees and slams his cock into me, making me yelp. I slide my hand onto my stomach just where the edge of the sink dug into it and lean back in my seat.

His hand on my shoulder makes me jump and squeak and he laughs as he cups my chin from behind, tipping my head back and into his kiss. His hand slides down my throat and his fingertips slip inside the neck of my blouse, brushing the top of my breast. Deep inside me, the underwater, sea anemone fronds of arousal stir and I feel a faint, warm pulse in my clit. Sitting next to me, he hooks a finger under my chin again and pulls me towards him for another kiss. As we part, for a moment, our bottom lips stick together and I feel the tug before they pull apart. He nips my bottom lip with his teeth and I let out a tiny gasp that only we can hear.

My headache has gone but my tummy is still fluttery. I sit holding his hand in my lap and we talk about the halls of residence the university is putting him up in, and whether we should get that tree in the garden cut down, and what kind of car I would get if I got a different one. And for 20 minutes I'm not on display, naked in the coffee shop in Borders. We're invisible.