She knew it was wrong - she wasn't stupid. But that didn't stop her from wanting it, from thinking about it, dreaming of it, both while she was asleep and when she should have been working. Her cheeks always burned red as one of her co-workers or one of the customers made some little noise that snapped her out of her daydream, sure they all knew what she was thinking about. She'd never felt this way about someone before. She had a feeling she didn't really feel this way about him, either, that she wanted this just as much, if not more-so, because of everything she'd been through recently than from pure attraction.
Not that he wasn't attractive. She'd never been good at estimating ages, especially when it came to people older than her, but she thought he must be right around 40. It was possible he was even right at, or even more than, twice her own age of 21, which she had to admit felt a little creepy when she thought about it that way. But other than his hair, just barely starting to whiten, he still looked rather young, all muscular and dashing. The only reason she didn't think he was 30 was that when she'd guessed that age, he'd chuckled at her as if that guess was ridiculous.
But the fact that she was thinking about him that much at all just felt wrong. She'd seen the ring on his finger, and he'd even mentioned his wife once or twice, just fleetingly, yet enough that she knew the woman wasn't dead and he just hadn't gotten over it enough to take the ring off yet. She'd never considered herself a homewrecker, or a slut, or anything like that... But whenever he walked in, her knees went weak under her, and her heart fluttered.
She wasn't a virgin, but she didn't exactly have a lot of experiene in that department, either. She'd always been an extremely petite girl, more cute than sexy. She'd done a little better back at the start of middle school. By the time she was ready to move on to high school, however, all of her boyfriends had moved on as the girls around her blossomed, almost all significantly more than her. Even once she started wearing padded bras, she had a feeling she reminded most of the boys too much of their kid sisters for them to even think of her that way.
It would have been nice if she'd filled out significantly since then, so she could say to herself, "If only they could see me now!", but that had never really happened. She still looked rather young, enough so that, when she'd moved out of the town she'd grown up in a couple months before, the superintendent of her apartment building had very nearly refused to let her sign the rental contract, even after she'd shown her driver's license. It probably didn't help that she had glasses in the picture on her license, having not yet gotten the contacts she now wore, or that her hair in the picture was still its natural blonde, rather than the brown she had since dyed it.
And yet, despite all that, here he was. She could still remember their first meeting. She'd only been working at Starbucks for a couple days then, still struggling to remember everything she had to do, stressed out that she would screw up and have to start her job search all over again, when it had been hard enough to land that position. She had been clearing off tables, only to pick up a cup that wasn't quite empty, with a lid not quite on. She hadn't been able to react in time to keep from spilling it on herself. Luckily, it was cold by then, but that didn't make her feel any better. After a day of being chewed out by customers for getting their orders slightly wrong, and then by her manager for ringing up coupons the wrong way, it was the last straw. She stood there, fists clenched, on the verge of tears.
"Hey, it's all right," he had said, swooping in from the next table over. He gently took her towel from her clenched fist, running it over her shirt. She'd known she should be mad that some complete stranger thought he could do that, but she'd been fascinated by him right away. Each touch was electric, sending pulses of energy through her body, making her sure this all had to be a dream. "No need to get upset... Angela," he told her, reading her name-tag.
"S-Sorry," she blushed, staring up into his deep, blue eyes. "I just..."
"Long day?" he asked knowingly. She nodded, shivering as he ran the towel over her body again, just barely keeping from brushing across her chest, giving her the first glimpse of his wedding band. There was nothing inappropriate going on, not really, but her face had lit up bright red. It had been so long, and after the events of the last couple months... "Oh, sorry," he smiled gently, giving her the towel back. She took it, reluctantly. "I'm sure it's hard having to come here and work as soon as you get out of school."
At first she'd been mortified, sure that he thought she was a high schooler, just a child, and that was why he was being nice to her. She reassured herself first by thinking that he could mean college, then by noticing his grin, deciding he was joking. "Yeah, they don't give me any time to work on my book reports here," she teased. He chuckled, making a little more small talk before leaving. Hardly able to believe her legs had held out so long, she'd sunk into a chair, giggling like a tween.
She'd almost hoped he was just passing through, or that he'd somehow found himself on the opposite side of the city as normal, but instead, she started noticing him coming in more and more, almost every day. She couldn't help but wonder if he'd actually been around the shop before, and she just hadn't noticed him, somehow. She told herself he must have, that this was just part of his routine, and his appearances there had nothing to do with her, yet he always seemed to hang around, reading his paper, until she was working the counter, so that he could order from her. He always made some little joke, found some excuse to look her right in the eye with an expression that could have melted butter, lingered what she felt was just a moment too long when he took his change from her. And he always seemed to only have large bills, so he had to get change every time. But she'd seen his ring, and she knew she couldn't do anything about the feelings bubbling up inside her, despite her best attempts to quell them.
Then she'd gotten robbed.
It all happened so fast, she hadn't even realized what was happening. It was one of the rare times he was there when she was about to leave. Silly as it was, her heart always beat a little faster when that happened, as she wondered if he was sticking around for her, if he was going to invite her back to his place, or ask if he could see hers, even though she knew it was more likely that he just hadn't finished his coffee yet.
She was about to leave when one of her co-workers called her back up to the counter for a minute. She almost didn't go, but the girl, a few years younger than her, looked a bit freaked out. It was rare she was asked for advice as a more experienced woman, so she'd given in, walking over and setting her purse down on the counter for just a moment to talk. It turned out it wasn't so much advice the girl wanted as it was for Angela to take over one of her shifts that weekend.
It had all happened in a flash. As the two employees spoke quietly, there was a rush of activity behind them, then the sound of the doorbell chiming. Angela turned curiously, then noticed her purse was missing. Looking out the front window, she saw the man running, as if he were chasing after whoever had taken it. "Yeah-that's-fine," she mumbled in a rush to her co-worker, dashing back around the counter and through the front door, short legs pumping furiously, yet still unable to come close to catching the man, much less whoever had taken her purse.
She wasn't an athletic girl by any means, and after spending the day in the air conditioned comfort of her Starbucks, the heat outside was too much for her. She slowed from a run to a stumble before leaning over, hands resting on her knees, feeling a little dizzy as she panted. She didn't know how long she stood there before she saw her purse suddenly drop into view, dangling in front of her. She straightened up, blushing as she saw the man holding it, smiling at her.
"Th-Thanks," she stammered, voice somehow still not working right even though she'd mostly caught her breath. "I didn't even..."
"It's all right," he told her.
"You say that to me a lot," she giggled, immediately feeling awkward, sure he wouldn't recall their first encounter as well as she did.
"You need to be told it a lot," he countered, reaching up, running a hand over her cheek.
She knew she shouldn't allow it, that this was practically a stranger she was letting touch her, but every muscle in her body, including her tongue, seemed to stop working as she felt his skin on hers.
"You feel warm," he said as he moved his hand away. "I know what you need."
She still couldn't speak... In fact, she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, only a pathetic whimper would emerge, first because of the sudden loss of his touch, then from the implications of what he'd said. She knew it was wrong, and yet she found herself nodding anyway. She kicked herself for it later; normally, she hated when people felt like they had to do things for her, like she was some helpless child. She told herself it was different this time, since she really had needed his help, though really she knew it was just because it was him.
He started to lead her through the street, thankfully keeping a slow pace so she wouldn't be running after him like an obedient little puppy, as she knew she would have. In her mind, she could see herself in some fancy apartment, sitting on a bed as he reached over with his strong, yet gentle hands, unbuttoning her shirt, working his way from the top down, then even further as he undid her pants, started to slide them down her legs... Her cheeks flushed, and she could feel herself growing wet with arousal. It really had been quite a long time.
So, while she was somewhat thankful for it later, as she rebuked herself for having been willing to jump into bed with someone just because he chased down a purse-snatcher for her, in the moment she was quite disappointed when she found that the place we was leading her to was an ice cream shop, going so far as to let out an unhappy moan, much to her mortification. If he knew what that was really about, he gave no indication, instead asking, "You're not on a diet, are you?" When she was unable to answer, he simply said, "Well, you shouldn't be. You're just right as you are," before ushering her inside.
Eating her ice cream did cool her down, in more ways than one, though before that she found herself squirming in front of the ice cream vats as she was supposed to be picking out a flavor, bits and pieces of her daydream of what she'd expected this outing to be still playing in her head. Finally, once she'd finished, she was calm enough to think to check her purse. It looked as if it had been rifled through, but thankfully her ID and credit cards were still there.
So was her money, meager as it was, or so she thought until she pulled it out. The twenty she'd had in there had been crisp and new, fresh out of the ATM. This one wasn't as wrinkled and dirty as some of the bills she had to deal with at work, but it was clearly not the same one. For a moment, she was confused - why would the thief switch money with her? Then she realized the truth.
"I can't take this," she told the man, holding the money out to him. "You already paid for my ice cream, I can't take this, too."
"Yes, you can," he assured her. "I didn't get a good enough look at the thief to bother going to the police, and I didn't try to catch him after he ditched the purse, so it's the least I can do."
"No," she corrected him. "The least you could have done was just let me know it had been stolen. You didn't have to chase after him yourself..."
"Hey," he said, just a hint of sternness in his voice. "I wanted to. And I don't want to hear any more arguments, young lady." She tried to start one anyway, only to be struck mute as he stroked her cheek again, this time moving his fingers down to her chin, pushing it upward while she tried to look down and hide her blush. "Got it?" She had no choice but to nod.
She'd nearly invited him home, reconfiguring her fantasies to set them in her own crowded apartment rather than his luxurious one, but whenever she tried to actually do it, his wedding ring always seemed to catch her eye. It didn't stop her from dreaming, though. It was fortunate that he had to leave first, as she needed to buy herself another scoop of ice cream to calm herself down enough to get home.
As she walked back to Starbucks from the ice cream shop, underwear still wet from her now cooled excitement, she began to wonder if she'd overdone it, if she had misread him. Sure, she wanted to think that he was just as into her as she was him, but had he ever really given her any indication that was the case? If anything, his actions earlier seemed more like he thought of her as a daughter than anything else. She certainly hoped that wasn't the case, but knew, realistically, she had to at least consider it.
She felt especially shy the next day when he came in, staring down at the counter as she took his order. He gave her a nice, crisp twenty, which she looked at for a moment before saying, "Let me change for you... I mean, make some change..." It was silly, clumsy, though she told herself she was just out of practice with the whole flirting thing.
So she was more than a little surprised, and pleased, when he responded with, "Please, feel free to slip into something a little more comfortable." A shiver ran down her spine, and she made the mistake of looking up into his eyes. She was sure she saw the same desire there as in her own. She felt a warmth stirring in her loins, a wetness forming between her legs and in her panties as her breath quickened.
"Hey, hurry it up!" groused the person behind the man in line, snapping her out of it.
"S-Sorry," she stammered, cheeks flushed as she handed him his money.
"I bet a skirt would be more comfortable," he suggested as he took it. "You're always wearing khakis..."
"I'll, uh... think about it..." she promised. In the moment, she knew she would do it. Later, she had second thoughts. Yes, she'd been willing to jump in bed with him the day before, but her head was a bit clearer now. Now that he seemed like he was interested in her as well, the fact that he was married became somehow more important. She never expected to be able to call herself a seductress, and though it was a little exciting that she could, that wasn't the kind of person she wanted to be.
She told herself all she needed was one good roll in the hay, that her obsession with him was all about the long dry spell she was suffering through. As soon as he was gone - it felt somehow wrong to do it until then, even when there wasn't actually anything going on between them - she started checking out all the guys that came in. There were plenty closer to her age, a few more handsome, or distinguished, more than enough candidates. Yet, try as she might, she couldn't make herself get interested in any of them.
She wore a skirt the next day. And the day after, and the day after. He kept suggesting she make them shorter and shorter, and, every time, she'd go along with it. It reminded her, in a way, of being back in high school. She'd gone to a private school, with uniforms, none of which ever fit her right, being so small. To keep from looking like a total prude dork, she had to roll up the top of her skirt, like her classmates all did as soon as classes let out. So she'd have to pull hers up even higher to try to keep up with them, feeling like a little girl playing dress-up. She was no good with the sewing machine herself, and every time she begged her mother to hem her skirts, she'd always say, "Just wait, you'll grow into them." But she never did.
Just as, now, she always intended to playfully rebel against his orders, switch back to her dress pants, or longer skirts. She never did. Even once she reached the minimum length set by the dress code, she kept pushing it, sure nobody would notice. Except for him.
"You're such a good little girl," he teased her one day, a slow morning with only a few other customers, off in one corner by themselves.
"Do I get a treat?" she asked playfully, toying with a pen as she spoke, hating herself for it almost immediately. She knew doing what he told her was leading him on, but she justified that as more innocent. She supposed just flirting wasn't that bad, either, yet it somehow felt different.
"Oh, I don't know," he'd said. "I'm not sure you've been that good."
"How good do I have to be?" she half-giggled, chewing on the clicky part of her pen.
"I have to think about that," he mused, putting his chin in his hand, tapping his pointer finger over his mouth before coming up with, "I think you should show me your panties."
If she hadn't been turned on before, that would have done it. She nearly dropped the pen, then set it down carefully, as if she'd meant to do that all along, buying herself a little time as her cheeks turned crimson, hardly able to believe what she'd heard. "I-I can't do that," she whispered, suddenly feeling like the other customers were sitting far too close to the counter.
"Oh, I bet you can," he told her.
She looked over at the occupied tables, chewing now on her bottom lip, one hand moving towards the hem of her skirt almost automatically. "I don't know..." she protested.
"Well, you don't have to," he shrugged, starting to turn away.
"No, no, I will!" she said quickly, wincing at how eager she must have sounded. He was smiling as he turned around, even before she tugged the front of her skirt down enough to show off the front of her purple underwear.
"Good girl!" he complimented her, reaching over to pat her on the head before grabbing a cookie from the counter, laying it in front of her with his money. "And here's your treat."
At first, she was too disappointed to say anything, before coming up with a teasing, "First ice cream, now this... Are you trying to fatten me up?"
To her surprise, he answered, "Yes." He sounded quite serious, enough that she wasn't quite sure what to say. But, sure enough, every day after that, he would buy her a cookie or a muffin after demanding to see her panties. He started out waiting until there was nobody else around, but as the days went on, he got more and more daring, doing it with another customer just a few tables away, then even closer, and, at last, he surprised her by doing it not after having his coffee and waiting for the right moment, but right away, with someone else in line behind him, speaking in a hushed yet insistent tone.
She felt like a slut, a tramp... She shouldn't do this. She could probably get fired over this. That didn't stop her. She moved up closer to the counter, tugging her skirt down just an inch or two. He gave her a look and she immediately pulled it down more, fire burning in her cheeks as well as significantly lower in her body. If he'd asked her to, she would have pulled her skirt all the way off, stood there in her panties, soaking in her own juices.
When he gave her his money that day, it was with a piece of paper folded around something small and hard. She looked down at it questioningly, only to realize with a little more prodding that it was a key. Her heart sped up as she glanced up at him, getting a nod before slipping it into the pocket of her apron, hands shaking.
She looked at it on her break, as she nibbled her cookie. The paper had an address on it - one a little ways out of the city, in what looked like a suburb on her phone - and a time. This was it, she thought. Now she knew, for sure, that this wasn't a one-sided crush. Of course, she should have suspected that already, but she'd been telling herself his little tests were different, that they just didn't quite feel the same.
By then, her horniness had waned to a dull roar, enough to fully remind her what she was doing. It was one thing to flirt with, dress up, or undress for someone. Taking it to the next step was something different. Would it mean she really was a bad person? He'd mentioned his wife, but if he was doing this, he couldn't be entirely happy with her, could he?
She wound up taking the rest of the afternoon off, driving herself back to her apartment to think. She was too distracted to be of much use there, anyway, and unless she wanted to meet him in her work clothes, she wouldn't have had time to change otherwise. Now, after all this time, all her fantasies, all the dancing around it, the moment of truth was finally there. She knew quite well what her body wanted her to do - it had been telling her in no uncertain terms for weeks - but her mind was less easy to convince. She almost wished he hadn't been so cryptic about it, that he would have just told her to leave with him right away. She probably would have trailed after him like a lovesick puppy. But he had to give her time to think about it.
She started to reach for her phone, to call and ask him to meet her at her place, before remembering he'd never actually given her his number. That might have clenched it right there, knowing that there was no chance his wife could walk in on them. If just hadn't been for that wife, this would be so easy.... Why did he have to be married? Why couldn't he have at least taken his ring off before putting her under his spell?
She pouted, sitting on her bed, repeatedly talking herself out of it, then back in again, all the while checking the time on her phone every few minutes, knowing the time when she'd have to make a choice was approaching fast. Finally, still undecided, she got up and walked over to her closet, just to see what she could wear in case she did decide to go.
And there, back in the corner, she saw it. When she'd moved out of her parents' house, she wasn't sure why she'd taken it, and she was just as uncertain when she'd boxed everything up to move to the city. At one time, she'd had plenty of copies of pretty much the exact same thing, yet, other than wearing the shirt every now and then, she hadn't touched it in years. But there it was, staring at her, practically giving her the answer she'd been searching for all that time.
She slipped out of her work clothes stepping into her black tights, yanking them up her legs, letting them snap over her tummy, pressing her panties up against her. She'd changed those when she'd gotten home, but even that recently fresh pair was damp now as she moved toward her inevitable goal. She pulled on the white shirt, buttoning it up before looping the black and red striped tie under its collar. It had been a long time since she'd had to tie one, but her hands moved almost of their own accord, remembering the motions for her. Then came the skirt. It was green and blue plaid, and still a little too long for her. Certainly longer than the skirts he'd ordered her to wear. Just like old times, she tugged it up higher on her body, rolled up the top, getting it to an acceptable length.
She could remember being in the bathrooms at high school, watching her friends do that as they squinted into the mirror and applied their make-up, gossiping with each other about who they were meeting. Even they treated her like a kid sometimes, especially as they got older, preferring her to simply stand there and listen without speaking up, a little sister awed by how cool her older sisters were. "You wouldn't know him," they'd tell her if she asked for details. "He's an older guy."
Well, now she had her own older guy, she thought to herself, smiling as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. And, despite how she was dressed, she'd never felt less like a child. He'd never actually told her he wanted to see her dressed like a schoolgirl, but from the way he called her "young lady", and how he treated her, and just the way she'd felt, taking orders from him... It just felt right.
She could barely sit still on the drive out to the address he'd given her. There was still a little voice in the back of her mind telling her she shouldn't be doing this, but it was getting easier and easier to tune out. She was somewhat relieved to wind up in a suburb after all, and even more so to see that the address really existed. She drove past the house a couple times, since she was just a couple minutes early, then finally pulled into the driveway and turned off her car.
"Well," she said quietly, pulling out the key he'd given her, staring at it for a second before closing her fist around it with a tiny smile. "Here goes."