I received a text informing me he was late just as I was approaching the bar, and he directed me to look at his blog. Same bar as last time, it was mostly empty tonight, save some regulars crowded at one end. In some ways I was more nervous than last time– we had delved deeper in our communication since last week, discussing what was just inside of my outer limits. He knows that I like to be kept on the edge. And of course that’s where he wants me himself.
As you saw, the blog post gave me two instructions:
1) pinch your nipple at the bar, under your dress, furtively With my outfit this meant pulling the cotton spandex from the top of my cleavage down, freeing the top of my breast to my nipple. I couldn’t wear a bra with this dress anyway due to the low back so this wasn’t difficult or uncomfortable, but challenging in an empty bar.
Instruction 2) go to the bathroom… Or at least this is what appeared on my smartphone. I approached the bathroom, seeing the door open just a sliver with the light on. I paused. Was he in there, waiting for me? Would he ask me to get on my knees? Push me there? I took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. It was empty. I waited a few moments and then returned to the table and kept drinking my whiskey. I looked around and thought I must be missing something. I opened the post again and realized the blog was in preview mode, which cut off the rest. I laughed at myself and drank a bit more.
I then completed #2, and ordered another bourbon along with a glass of soda w/ ice to complete the third set of instructions. I closed my eyes, relishing in the sensation of the cold slick ice traveling down my tongue, under it, feeling my cheeks pucker in as I sucked on it, hard. I rolled a piece around my mouth with my lips open, crunching it lightly. I took my time, finishing my whiskey. Enjoying the wait. Enjoying the not knowing. Finally, I called.
He picked up told me to walk outside and take a left out of the bar (turns out he meant right) and find a blue honda. I approach and my phone vibrates with a text, “The car is empty. The door is open. You’re safe. I’m watching. Sit back. Touch yourself.” I got in, looked around, and smiled– of course he isn’t in here, that would be too easy. So I sit back, and do as he says. It’s raining and the windows are hard to see through. In the distance I can just barely see a figure approaching. It’s him.