Amber Ascendant, part one of two

Amber walked nervously, very aware of passing strangers on the street, and their glances. Every look seemed to bring a blush.

She had every reason to blush. David had given her very explicit instructions for her wardrobe. Today, he had her wear white. A simple white dress with high neck and long sleeves, buttoned down the front, normal enough at first glance.

David had known exactly the dress he wanted her to wear, had sent her a picture, and told her exactly where to buy it, and given her immediate orders to do so.

She’d been forced to leave Steve at dinner and race to the store to purchase it before it closed.

But that wasn’t the end.

He’d required the dress be hemmed. She’d stood on a box in the seamstress dressing room, blushing madly as the seamstress had taken picture after picture on her phone, David continually ordering the hem higher and higher, until in final form, it was barely decent, more a mini-dress than a dress.

She suspected that David had ordered a few other modifications when he’d spoken to the tailor. It seemed to fit differently, around the bust, around the hips.

The dress did not quite reach the tops of her stockings, although thankfully, is at least covered her ass. David had ordered excruciatingly tall white high heels that she teetered in, and white stockings.

A white hair band, dangling earrings with large white ceramic pendants, and sunglasses with plastic white rims, completed the look, supplemented by minimalist make up, and the brightest, wettest looking, red lipstick that David could find. Even her small purse was blinding white.

It was actually impressive, the meticulous care he put into crafting her look. It had taken her time to find all the accessories. Truthfully, it excited her, it made her feel controlled, manipulated. His exacting attention was thrilling, it made her feel like a doll he was dressing up.

Sex is always better when you have to work for it.

It made her feel a little submissive, enjoying and accepting his assiduous control, down to the color of her painted white fingernails and toenails.

It was exciting, but also a little intimidating, a little embarrassing to be dressed so precisely in such a provocative manner.

She was certain, as she walked, that her ass was exposed. She could feel the breeze, and even more, could almost feel the gazes of men and women.

But the worst part of it, was the front of the dress. It buttoned up the front from top to bottom. Except after she’d picked it up from the seamstress, when she was putting it on, she discovered a subtle modification that David had ordered.

The buttons started at the level of her navel. Below that, there was nothing to hold the dress in place.

Every step she took, left the opening of the dress to flap with the motion of her thighs.

The one thing David hadn’t allowed was underwear.

Every step she took potentially flashed her smooth-shaven pussy, exposed her pubic mound and the secrets below, unless she stepped excruciatingly carefully, with measured precise swaying steps, made all the more difficult by the excruciatingly high heels she was unused to.

Each step was an Odyssey, the merest unevenness in a curb stone, the slightest adjustment in pace, the need to step past a fellow pedestrian, increased her risk of exposure. And sometimes, as a passing pedestrian’s eyes glanced down and lit up, she knew they’d seen exactly what she struggled futilely to hide and David intend to display.

The worst part was that he’d ordered her to park over a block away from the bar she was supposed to meet him at.

Needless to say, when she finally arrived, she was dripping.

She was, in fact, so wet that with each step, her lips parted wantonly beneath her, shining with lubrication. It worked its way from her vagina, viscous droplets clinging to her labia, transferring themselves until her inner thighs were slick.

The moisture was creeping down to threatening to stain and ruin the tops of her virginal white stay ups.

&&&

The bar was skeezy and dimly lit. Thirty years ago, it had been refurbished and upscale, but now it just looked tired and tarnished. The brass fixtures were worn, the floor scuffed, neon beer signs still shone bravely through layers of dust. Random artifacts were fixed to the wall, a bicycle, blown up album covers, vinyl LPs and pictures, and everywhere, tacky, peeling old beer posters. There was a slight sour odor, the sort that you find in old bars, legacy of a ten thousand spilled drinks and broken glasses, of alcohol-soaked sweat and breath and lives gone to waste.

Showing up with friends, inured by social support, you’d never notice the seedy despair of the place.

But Amber was alone walking through the door. There were only a handful of men, mostly minding their own business, or playing a desultory game of pool. They all glanced automatically indifferently, at the doorway as Amber came in.

As she walked in, she automatically put a hand down to keep her dress from opening to wide, holding one side to at least conceal her pussy. The gesture only drew attention to the other side of her skirt, and the delightful smooth pink flesh beginning above the band of white stocking, continuing uninterrupted by panty or thong up to where the fabric joined.

Every male gaze sharpened, casual glances focused and hardened, staring.

It was exactly the effect that David wanted, watching from his place at the bar. Amber was pure slutty sex, an exquisite vision in white, teetering on stiletto heels, vagina bare and so barely concealed, that the slightest gesture would expose her smooth vulva.

The bar hosted strippers four times a week. The inhabitants of the bar had watched hundreds of women up on the stage, going through the motions, spreading their legs, parting their lips, and often they could hardly be bothered to look.

But every single man there was riveted, their cocks thickening automatically, licking their lips, swallowing automatically, staring with fixed intensity as if hoping that sheer will might part the hem of her dress in the right way, so that they could witness her shaved glory.

For a long moment, Amber stood there, aware of their stares and the reason for them, embarrassed but excited. She could feel herself blushing brightly, a flush that crept down her neck over her chest, her breasts seeming to tighten or swell, her nipples going rigid. Did her thighs tremble ever so slightly, here vagina clench just a little, without her notice?

David stepped forward. Amber spotted him and focused, allowing her to escape the hard attention. Smiling brilliantly, she awkwardly, she walked towards David, perhaps too hastily, and embraced him, pressing her body against his, practically grinding against him.

Exactly as he’d texted: “When you see me, I want you to give me the biggest, sexiest smile with that glossy red ‘fuck me’ lipstick so that everyone can see, and then walk over and wrap yourself around me like you’re in heat.’

She kissed him, her head moving towards him, both aggressive and submissive, her lips parting as they met his, her tongue already extending before contact. As their lips met, she seemed to almost swoon, going limp in his arms.

As he’d texted: “Kiss me. I’m going to be cool. So it’s you, you kiss me like you’ve never wanted anything more in your life. Kiss me like you need me to fuck you right there.”

It wasn’t quite right, David decided. She was too tall; the platforms and stiletto heels made her taller than he was. He didn’t like that. His mistake, David decided, and not something he would hold against her.

“Shoes off,” he ordered.

Amber nodded obediently, bracing herself against him, stepping back slightly, lifting her calf to remove one, then the other. David nodded with approval, and pulled her gently towards him.

Amber rubbed against him, wriggling with pleasure, the slit in front of her dress forgotten, as he turned her so that her back was to the other bar patrons, and grabbed her ass, running his hands over her perfect mounds, pulling her dress up briefly to expose the bottom of her ass.

It was immediately clear to anyone who was watching, and they were all watching, that Amber was either wearing the tiniest of thongs, or was completely commando.

“Did I follow the script the way you wanted?” she whispered quietly in his ear. She felt slightly weak, slightly trembling, obeying his detailed instructions to the letter had been equal parts humiliating and exhilarating. She found herself deeply aroused and but a little drained. She hadn’t expected the order to remove her shoes, it had been a wild card, but a deliciously submissive gesture. She wondered if it had been some sort of test? Had she passed?

“Good girl,” he whispered back, in a way that almost made her feel like a dog being patted on the head. But deep down, some part of her was thrilled, both with her obedience and the attention and effort she’d given, and with her Master’s approval. Amber’s submissive side spread warmth through her body, the contentment of willing surrender and compliance.

“You just love to follow orders, don’t you? It turns you on.”

The words sent a small flurry of butterflies alight in her stomach, a pulse in her vagina so strong, her hips actually moved as she felt wetness slide between her lips. She gasped involuntarily, and he kissed her hard, forcing her jaws apart with the pressure of his kiss, invading her mouth with his tongue. Inside, she could feel her will melting away.

The script was over. Amber wasn’t sure what came next. Obviously, there was a script, or a plan, in his mind. She just didn’t know what it was yet.

David was absolutely controlling. Amber realized that they were playing out some little fantasy of his. She also realized that she responded to his control, that it brought out this submissive urge in her, and that whatever his fantasy was, she would comply. If some part of her resisted, he would simply overwhelm it, break it, and in the end, she would willingly obey.

The possibilities of what he might want excited and terrified her.

Her knees were like water. She decided to take a chance on improvising.

“Buy a good girl a drink?” she asked breathlessly, after the kiss.

“Sure thing,” David almost laughed, he was so pleased with himself. “Might as well get you lubricated.”

“Oh,” she whispered, careful to smile as she stroked his ego, “you’ve already achieved that.”

David grinned and led her to one of the many empty tables, pulling out a chair for her to sit down. She nodded and smiled, as if appreciating the gentlemanly treatment.

But she knew David had no such gentlemanly instinct. In choosing the table, pulling out the chair she was supposed to sit in, he was positioning her to be facing the bar and the patrons at the pool table.

“Sunglasses off,” he said.

She nodded, taking them off, and placing them in her purse.

“Ease forward a bit,” David ordered, she scooched her hips, leaning backwards in her seat. “Good girl.”

“Knees apart.”

Amber parted her thighs, opening until David nodded her knees were just over shoulder width.

“Very good,” he said intently. He leaned forward, reaching out to take the hem of each side of her dress, turning them back, and sliding them over her thighs, exposing her white stockinged legs. Above the stockings, the dress was to the navel, her pubic mound and vaginal lips framed and on wanton display.

Boldly, David ran a finger between her legs, starting at the bottom of her bare lips, sliding wetly between, until he stroked her clitoris. Amber gasped and shuddered.

David put his fingertip, shining and slick with her wetness to his lips and licked it. He smiled.

Amber blushed deeply from head to toe, shivering just slightly. She was acutely conscious of being put on display, spread and open in the middle of a seedy bar. That there was no one close didn’t matter. Her vagina was exposed to the world, even more profoundly than her embarrassing walk. It was exhilarating and terrifying, and she didn’t even have her sunglasses to protect her. Her stocking clad toes clenched; the bottoms already dirty from walking across the bar floor.

Mouth gone dry, Amber felt her heart pounding against her ribs, she could feel the blood coursing through her veins, almost roaring in her ears. Her stomach felt light, fluttery. Adrenalin and arousal made her feel weightless, almost buoyant.

“What now?” she asked.

David gave her an evil, knowing smile that made her heart skip and her pussy clench.

“I don’t know,” he said casually. She didn’t believe that for a second. He did know, he was just playing with her, and she loved it.

“I guess,” David told her, “we’ll have a drink.”

He grinned.

“Then we’ll see.”

Involuntarily, Amber blushed all over again.

After a few minutes, the waitress wandered over to them.

“Hey folks,” the girl said, she was young, her bare arms laced with tattoos. She was chewing gum. “My name’s Cherry. What can I get–”

Cherry’s gaze had shifted casually from David, to Amber, then down. She froze, even her jaw stilled, the chewing gum forgotten. Cherry was staring, shocked, directly between Amber’s exposed thighs, at her bare smooth pubic mound and the delicate folds parting wetly below. Amber felt an electric thrill go through her, her thighs seemed to quiver, her nipples so rigid they were painful. For a moment, Amber couldn’t breathe.

Cherry recovered. “I’m sorry,” she said smoothly, “just got a bit distracted. What will you be having.”

“I’ll have a beer,” David said, forcing Cherry to reluctantly give him her attention. “And Amber...”

Cherry’s gaze swiveled to Amber’s face, then down, then up. Amber blushed.

“Uh...”

“I think Amber will have a glass of wine, red if you have it.”

Cherry nodded, blushed a little, shifting from foot to foot.

“Coming right up,” she said, and retreated back to the bar.

“So,” David said, “do you think she noticed?”

There was no doubt, Amber remembered Cherry’s glance and the way it had turned into a naked stare at her pussy. Amber had never felt so exposed.

“Oh yes,” Amber said. “I’m pretty sure.”

David looked innocent.

“Are you sure?”

He shrugged and glanced over to the bar, where Cherry was engaged in animated conversation with the Bartender. They both leaned across the bar, so their faces were only inches from each other as they whispered. Amber noted Cherry’s jeans were patched and she wore high top runners.

“I wonder what they’re talking about,” David teased.

Amber blushed and looked away.

“I’m sure I wouldn’t know,” she said. Involuntarily, she shifted in her chair, her knees moved together.

David cleared his throat, his smile losing wattage. Amber’s knees moved apart. The smile returned and he nodded approval. Amber shivered, feeling a slow pulse between her legs, pushing slick wetness inside her. She felt drenched and clenched and dripping.

“Wait for it,” David said.

The bartender had left his post and was making his way over. Amber quivered in trepidation, would they be told to cover up, would they be kicked out, would he say something. Amber’s heart sped up; she could feel her blush come in pulses.

The urge to close her knees, to cover herself was overwhelming, stopped only by David’s warning glance.

The bartender loomed over them smiling. He was a tall rangy man with curly hair and a handlebar mustache.

“Hey there,” he said, “welcome to our bar. I’m Keith.”

“Hey Keith,” her companion said. “David. Is there a problem?”

Keith glanced at Amber, his gaze starting at her stockinged knees and moving up between them. Amber wanted to hide under the table, but dared not move, not even to narrow the gap between her thighs.

Keith smiled, turning back to David.

“Not at all,” he said. “Cherry’s just busy, so her order wasn’t clear. I just thought it would be easier to come over and nail it down. You were just having beer on tap?”

“That’s right,” David said cheerfully.

Keith glanced over at Amber’s bare mound between her thighs.

“Yeah, and the lady, it was a red wine, right? I we have some good reds on stock, I just wanted to see if you had a preference. Miss?”

Amber stared up, speechless.

“Amber’s a little shy,” David said.

Keith’s glance flickered towards David, and then back to Amber. He didn’t even pretend he wasn’t looking, just stared and smiled.

“Yeah,” Keith agreed absently, “I can see that.”

Amber’s blush pulsed so intensely and brightly she felt like she was lighting up the room, she felt luminous. Her pussy pulsed hard, deep inside, hard enough that she almost felt her whole body shake. She swallowed, trying to catch a breath that seemed to elude her.

“What do you recommend?”

Keith didn’t even bother to look at David, his gaze simply explored Amber, moving from her face, across her dress, down to her exposed sex, along stockinged thighs and back, always returning to her pussy and her wet lips.

Amber’s clitoris was so hard she imagined it protruding visibly, that Keith was staring right at it. She imagined him reaching to touch it, wanting and not wanting it, but knowing that if he did, she would let him.

“Rosette,” Keith said. “We have a really nice rosette. Very light, very sweet.”

For a second, Keith’s gaze met Amber’s, their eyes locked. He licked his lips, and she looked away.

“Very, very sweet,” Keith said. “Very popular.”

“That’s nice,” David said. “Amber likes sweet. Is it dry?”

“Dry?” Keith asked. He almost shook himself. “Oh, the rosette? No, it’s not dry at all. It’s wet, very wet.”

He licked his lips again.

“Sweet and wet,” Keith said.

“That’s just what Amber loves,” David said, “sweet and wet.”

“I bet she is,” Keith said looking down at her.

Amber, trying not to catch his gaze again, looked down, towards Keith’s jeans, the outline of his erection visible against the denim. Amber blushed even harder. Her clit throbbed.

He’s going to touch me, she thought. He’s going to do it. He’s not even pretending. He’s going to reach between my thighs, his fingertip will touch my clit, like that image on the ceiling of the Sistine chapel.

I want him to, she thought. She closed her eyes, waiting.

“Rosette it is,” David said. “A snifter and a glass.”

“Twelve ounce?”

“Sure.”

Amber opened her eyes, looking right into Keith’s.

“Nice,” he told her.

Her voice cracked.

“Thanks,” she said awkwardly.

“Well,” Keith said. “Coming right up.”

He grinned at Amber and left.

David turned to Amber, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“Well,” he said, “how was that.”

Amber was almost dizzy. Carefully, keeping her knees shoulder length apart, she stretched and twisted, crossing her ankles beneath. She smiled, swallowed, tried to work some saliva into her mouth.

“I’m sitting in a puddle right now,” Amber confessed.

“Good.”

“Wow, that was... That was...” Amber found herself searching for words to describe the experience, even to frame it. She could find none.

“That,” David said, “was the beginning.”

Amber squeaked with nervousness and delight.

They’d gone far past the detailed script that David had given her, she was in free fall, she couldn’t even think of possibilities. But David, he had a script, he was meticulous in his fantasies. Anything could happen, but David was in complete control, the symphony conductor, the ringmaster, the magician ready to astonish and amaze, to leave her breathless. She was his, her body the orchestra he made music of, the rabbit in his hat, both artifact and audience.

“Wait for it,” David smiled.

“Hey Steve!”

Amber gave a little jump. Steve was her husband’s name.

David looked up calmly. One of the bar creeps had ventured from his table, approaching. He wore denim and plaid, needed both a shave and a haircut, and perhaps a bath.

“Excuse me?” David said, looking up at the man, who was looking down between Amber’s parted thighs.

“Oh shit,” the bar creep said, “I thought you were my buddy, Steve. You look just like him from a distance.”

“Oh,” David said. “Okay.”

The man’s eyes lingered over Amber.

“My name’s Tom,” he offered his hand. David took it.

“David.” Nodding. “This is Amber.”

Tom, glad of an excuse, turned directly to Amber, thrusting out his hand.

“Name’s Tom,” he said unnecessarily, to draw things out. “Pleased to meet you... Amber?”

She smiled graciously, well aware of his gaze, and placed her hand gingerly in his.

“Yes,” she said, “Amber.”

As his fingers lingered on her hand, Tom noticed her wedding ring.

“Married?” he said. “Is this your husband?”

Amber smiled up at him again, conscious of David’s eyes on her, a trace of jealously beginning to flicker in them.

“No,” she responded flatly.

“Oh,” Tom said surprised. “I hope your husband isn’t the jealous type,” he joked.

Her smile didn’t change.

“I don’t care if he is or not,” Amber said. From the corner of her eye, David’s developing glower stopped and shifted to interest.

Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.

“David’s cock so much bigger and better,” she said, “so I don’t care what my husband thinks. And he knows it.”

David couldn’t help an instinctive grin. He preened unconsciously, as feeling himself hardening. She’d pleased him. It gave her a deep shiver of pleasure, the pleasure of an eager dog knowing it’s made its master happy.

“Huh,” Tom said nonplused, glancing at David, despite the urge to stare at her pussy. He was thrown and tried to recover. “Well, if you like them big-”

Amber’s eyes shifted to David. “David’s the biggest I’ve ever had, and he knows what to do with it. When I think of it, I get wet. And when he brings it out...”

She looked up at Tom for a moment, smiling.

“He makes me do anything he wants, and I love it.”

“Okay,” Tom said awkwardly, excruciatingly aware that he now had an unbearable erection, that it had twisted up awkwardly in his boxers, he desperately needed to adjust it, but not in front of the couple. He blinked, speechless, both intimidated, and caught between the urge to go back to his buddies, or go quickly to the men’s room and rub one out.

Amber leaned back, looking from Tom to David, her legs parted wider, exposing her, and then closed. A swivel of only a few inches, but it made Tom’s pulse race.

“Well, that’s something,” he said. “Well... Well, I got to get back. Nice meeting you.”

Tom stumbled away; his pants visibly tented.

Amber almost giggled and relaxed in her chair, enjoying David’s grin. He was definitely pleased. It was all about feeding his ego, serving his narcissism and self-importance, making him bigger, particularly in front of others. She’d have to remember that.

“Was I a good girl?” she asked in a teasing voice, but beneath that, seeking his approval. She barely aware of the contradiction, at the same time that she deliberately played to his ego, she felt a need for his approval.

“You were a very bad girl,” he said, “but in the best way. I loved that.”

She squirmed, only half deliberately, in her chair and deliberated on her next words.

“You inspire me,” she said, turning the compliment back to him, noting the way he preened unconsciously. “You make me want to please you.”

He smiled, nodding.

“Spread your legs,” he told her. There was just an edge of flatness. She was straying out of his fantasy.

Amber’s knees had come together as she’d relaxed with him. Her smile froze, she turned it up just a little, and slouched an inch or two forward and slowly parted her knees till they were the width of her shoulders until she was on display again.

“A little more,” he ordered, but the flatness was gone, her obedience mollified him. The extra command was just to reassure himself.

Her knees opened another couple of inches, she slouched forward another inch. She could feel her lips beginning to part.

“Good,” he said.

Some sarcastic part of her wanted to offer to throw a knee over the arm of her chair and really spread, but she quickly suppressed the urge and swallowed it back down, giving no sign it had ever passed through her mind.

“Good girl,” he told her. She smiled at him. Once again, she felt the warm flush, the pleasure of obedience and the satisfaction of his approval.

“You like obeying,” he said, enjoying his power over her. “It turns you on.”

Turn it back at him, she thought.

“I like obeying you,” she purred. “Like? I love it. You’re so... creative.”

She watched him puff up slightly. So easy, she thought. He was a nasty little boy, but she loved his creativity.

After all, she was here with him, in the bar, spreading her legs on command. Again, she wondered what he planned next and almost shivered with anticipation.

“How you folks doing?” a voice came from behind her. She didn’t turn to look.

A burly man came around. He was heavy set, with slab-like forearms and an old-fashioned tattoo on one. He had the sort of bulk associated with a lifetime of heavy manual labor, now slowly running to seed. His face was just slightly florid, the lower half stubbled, he had thick eyebrows and a pug nose broken too many times, his hair was rapidly thinning, but he kept trying to comb it over.

“I’m Phil,” he told them, delivering David’s beer and her wine glass and a snifter of rosette from a platter with smooth grace. Amber admired his coordination, incongruous in such a heavy man. When he’d placed her glass on the table, he’d glanced directly at her bare pussy without even seeming to. “I run the place. Sorry it took so long, we’re a bit short staffed.”

Amber could see the bartender, lounging behind his bar, pretending not to watch him, and the waitress drifting among the very few patrons in the mostly empty bar.

“Thank you,” David said. “We weren’t waiting long.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Phil stood casually, showing no impulse to move on.

“I’m David, by the way.” David put his hand out to shake, and Phil gripped it. David nodded, “this is Amber.”

Phil nodded to acknowledge her vagina.

“Welcome to my bar. Just dropped in for a drink?”

Phil glanced from David to her, then down between her legs, and back to David, without missing a beat or a changing expression. He was smooth. She was sure he’d noticed her wedding ring. He didn’t seem like a man who missed much.

Amber wondered what it would feel like to be under him, wrapping her arms and legs around his thick, muscular, naked body as he pumped inside of her. Her pussy clenched.

“Yeah,” David said, “we’re just passing through. You know how it is.”

Phil nodded.

“I hear you,” he said. Again, his glance around, friendly acknowledging, and somehow looking directly at her pussy without being obvious. Amber felt an impulse to show off, to spread wider, to try and hook just a little more attention, but restrained the urge.

“It’s a nice bar,” David said, looking around, not acknowledging Amber at all. She’d guessed right in not acting on her impulse. This was David’s show. No distracting, her job was to sit still and let him take the lead.

“I see you’ve got a stage.”

Amber’s heart gave a tiny hiccup. Where was David going?

“Live music?” David asked.

Phil nodded. “Fridays, Saturdays usually. Local bands, but some pretty good ones. Do a lot of 80s and 90s stuff.”

“The old classics,” David said. “I love that stuff.”

“You and your girlfriend should come back for it then,” Phil said. “We got this girl, ringer for Pat Benatar.”

Amber had no idea who that was, but David nodded wisely.

“I love Benatar.”

“She had a voice,” Phil agreed pleasantly, his gaze moving easily back and forth between them.

He must have looked at Amber’s bare pussy a half dozen times now, he could probably draw her vagina from memory, but he’d given no sign he’d even noticed. Smooth.

“You know,” David said with forced casualness, he wasn’t nearly as smooth as Phil, “I hear bars like this have a green room at the back. Just for private occasions, things like.”

“Oh yeah,” Phil said, nodding at Amber’s vagina, without appearing to stare. “We got one of those. It’s really nice. Sometimes we rent it out.”

“Really!” David said. “That’s so cool.”

“How much?”

Phil shrugged.

“A hundred for a few hours, the afternoon.”

“Cash?”

“Exclusively.”

“I’d love to see it,” David said. “Just a peek.”

“I’d be happy to show it to you,” Phil said cheerfully.

“Well let’s go,” David said, and stood up. Phil turned to Amber, offering his hand, once again taking her in without ever seeming to stare. She took his hand, feeling the texture and thickness of his meaty fingers, letting him help her up.

They followed him to the back, where he opened a door next to wall mirror mounted at waste height, reached in and turned on the lights. The room inside was surprisingly clean with bulky leather couches, a refrigerator, pinball machine and a pool table. On wall at the far end of the room was a large mirror.

“Wow,” David said, “this looks great. I have to ask would you mind if we... borrowed it. Just for a....”

“Cash,” Phil said.

“Of course,’ David said. He opened his wallet and fished out the money, counting it out. He added an extra twenty. “For privacy.”

“Sure think,” Phil said. He looked at Amber. “She a squirter?”

He didn’t bother speaking to her. In the few moments of his interaction with them, he’d sorted out their relationship, Amber thought. David did and she obeyed. There was no point in talking to her. David made the decisions.

Their interaction was such a subtle thing, but again her submissive soul quivered and bloomed, expanding within her. It was deliciously erotic. She contemplated it, watching herself in the wall mirror, watching the men ignoring her.

“Mmm sometimes,” David equivocated.

Phil shrugged. “I don’t need the pool table stained, or to have to replace the felt again this year. So here’s the deal, if you want to do it there, no skin off my teeth, but use the blanket, okay. Don’t piss me off.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” David said false innocence.

Phil nodded and gave Amber a long look, there was nothing smooth or subtle about it this time, it was the look of a man staring at a woman, undressing her mentally, knowing exactly what she would look like nude, with an unvarnished appreciation and a casual unhurried lost. Amber felt herself blushing head to toe, she had to resist an urge to coyly place her hands across her breasts and over her crotch.

“I’m just talking,” Phil replied. “I’ll go get your drinks.”

“A couple of extra, for each of us,” David said. “I think we’d like some privacy.”

“I’ll bring a pitcher and a wine bottle,” Phil said. “It’ll just take a minute.”

He stepped out.

David and Amber were alone. She dropped her purse and heels and strolled sexily toward David, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to him. David smiled as he watched her, but except for his erection, he did not return the kiss or otherwise yield.

Amber squeezed his cock.

“So this was your idea all along,” she said.

He smiled, shrugging.

“For a moment there,” he said, “I thought you might be planning to have me get up on that stage and dance on the pole.”

David’s smile was inscrutable.

“There’s an idea,” he lied, as if he’d never thought about it.

He pretended to think it over.

“Not in a place like this though, not in a grubby dive bar that’s mostly empty.”

“If I was going to make you do that,” and something about the way he said it made her feel like he’d already decide, somewhere along the line, when he felt she was ready, when his domination and her instinctive submission had finally melted the last vestiges of resistance, “I’d want to make sure you did it in front of a crowd.”

She felt a wave of butterflies rising up in her, a tightening of her pussy, a blush of arousal and anticipation as she imagined the wonderful terrible scene. The lights, the crowd, all those men, and being up on stage, naked but alone, simultaneously intimate and yet distant.

David separated from here, not roughly, but coolly. Amber knew she’d overstepped his fantasy. She watched him step back to the big leather couch, sitting in the middle of it, his arms outstretched, his leg parted.

He held up a finger and twirled it.

“Turn around, now that we’re alone, I want a good look at you.”

Amber nodded obediently. She raised her arms up into the air over her head, crossing them at the wrist, bowing her head slightly. David shifted position slightly, he tried to hide it, but his eyes lit up. Amber rolled and swiveled her hip, twisting her body in a slight arc, she did this again and again, slowly turning a complete circle until she was facing him again.

David stared, as if hypnotized. She could hear him swallowing, hear his soft breath. She could practically hear his cock straining against his pants.

“Very nice,” he said finally, struggling to sound calm and controlled. “I notice you kept time to the bar music.”

Amber smiled seductively; she didn’t think he’d even heard the music.

“Show me,” he ordered.

She knew what he meant. Carefully, she reached down and parted the lower folds of her very short white dress like curtains opening, exposing her bare, smooth pubic mound, almost shining, the tops of her stockings and the pink expanse between them all the way up to her navel. It wasn’t nudity, it was more wanton.

“That’s a nice pussy,” David said.

“It’s wet,” Amber said softly she slid one hand down to cup it, “for you.”

David didn’t take the bait.

“I like the music,” he said. “I’d like to see you dance.”

A subtle bit of domination, complementing the music first.

“Lap dance?”

“Not just yet.”

“Should I put on my shoes to dance?” Amber asked. The excruciatingly high heels would emphasize her calves and ass, add sway to her hips as she danced. They were strippers’ heels after all.

David shook his head. “No.” Just slightly flat.

She’d made a mistake.

“Just the way you are.”

A small mistake though.

Amber listened to the music, moved with it, let it flow through her, moving her shoulders and hips for her, she swayed seductively, playing with the dress, using it to flash and conceal her intimate zones. David watched; his eyes practically glowing.

“I’d like to see you strip,” David whispered, he shifted in his seat, trying to unobtrusively stroke his cock. Amber pretended not to notice, concentrating on swaying to the music. But of course, she saw him stroke himself. “Slowly.”

“Isn’t Phil coming back?” she whispered.

“That’s why I said slowly,” David said, there was something mischievous and gloating in his eyes.

Had David set something up with the big slab of a man? She wouldn’t mind that. But no, thinking over the conversation, David had been playing by ear with Phil. He might have arranged the room, but there was none of the familiarity that suggested they might have been playing an arranged scene out there. For all his delicious little fantasies, he wasn’t that good an actor.

Perhaps he was open to something happening with Phil? Possibly. Probably not, David was meticulous, he didn’t like deviations. Still...

Amber danced and decided that she would let things happen. Smiling at David, she undid the lowest remaining button, letting the skirt of the dress sway back and forth, wrapping around her hips, exposing and concealing.

“What does it matter,” David teased. “He’s already seen your pussy. You were on display back there.”

“On your command,” she let her hip sway and body twist slowly until she was facing away from him. She bent forward slightly, arching her back, pulling up the dress by the hem across her ass as she rolled it for him.

“Of course,” he said. “But you liked it, didn’t you. Being on display?”

“Mmm hmm,” she whispered. Rolling her hips into another twist, slowly facing him. Another button came undone, and then another. Her dress was opened to just below her breasts.

“That was quite a walk,” he said. “With your dress like that, and no panties.”

His eyes gleamed with sadistic glee.

Sway, turn, another button. The swell of breasts exposed.

“It would have been hard not to flash anyone walking by.”

“It was,” she agreed.

“You couldn’t help it.”

“No, I tried, I was so careful, but it was too hard.”

“How many men did you flash?”

Amber hesitated, still swaying to the music. Another button, this one above. As the dress gaped open, there was a bare flash of exposed nipple. Teasing, she pressed the sides of the dress back together, closing them. She let her other hand slide down sealing the fabric, covering her down past her ribs.

“At least a half dozen,” she told him.

Her lower hand pulled the dress together at her navel, but the space between was too great, the dress gaped open between her lower hand at her navel, and upper hand below her throat. Below her navel, of course, she was utterly exposed, with only the swaying hem to alternately conceal and expose her.

“Half a dozen,” he said. “That’s not many at all, we’ll have to do better.”

The final button, the dress hung completely open from the inside of her thighs all the way to her throat.

Amber couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“I don’t want to get arrested,” she complained, making it light and sexy, as if she was joking.

She slid the dress off her shoulders, leaving them bare, doing her hip roll and twist until she was facing away from him, swaying slow, letting it slide down her back.

“I don’t care,” David said. And he didn’t. “What would they arrest you for? Wardrobe malfunction? Who cares?”

The door opened. Phil stepped in with the pitcher of beer and bottle of wine. Amber froze, her entire front displayed to him, nude from the tops of her stockings to her nipple rings, the dress hanging around her arms like a robe.

Phil gazed without expression, as Amber straightened, turning red, pulling the dress back over her shoulders and closing it.

“Am I interrupting,” he asked blandly, like this happened every day.