The Player's Girl (The Girls) by S R Vicente Page B

than ever. She stared at his fingers as they carefully worked their way higher and higher up her thigh. She could smell him. She wanted this man that she’d only spoken to for less than ten minutes. His fingers reached the bare skin of her pussy and she flinched as though he had burnt her instead of touch her. He leaned into her. “You want me to finger you?” he whispered in her ear. At any other time and with anyone else, she would have slapped them for that comment, let alone agree to it but she wanted him, this stranger. She couldn’t do anything else but nod.
    A second later two of his fingers slid straight up her cunt and she yelped. The taxi driver watched her. “I like clean cunt, don’t you?” he whispered. She couldn’t reply. The sensation of being fingered semi naked in a taxi by a man she didn’t know was too much. She could feel her own wetness. The taxi stopped with a sharp bump and Mark removed his fingers, looking outside.
    “And we’re here Darling he said; pulling her dress down, not that it covered much. They had arrived at La Boehme, a popular French res taurant that she’d last been to several years ago. 
    “Wow,” Amy said as they walked into the rustic looking dining room filled with mismatched tables and chairs. “How did you get a table here?” Before Mark could reply, the Maître d came to greet them. Amy pulled the wrap down, hoping she was not exposing too much of herself.
    “Ah, Mr. Wells, please follow me, I have your table by the window!” the chubby man with a strong French accent said. They followed him over to a small wooden table that looked over the street. It was perfect. The waiter handed them large menus and left them in peace to decide.
    Mark smiled. “What is it they say, ‘it’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” he said ignoring the menu and staring across at her.
    “I have heard that tends to work well!” she replied. The waiter returned with a jug of iced water and a bottle of Merlot. He filled both their glasses midway, put the bottle on the table and again, left them in peace. “How does he know I even like Merlot?” she asked surprised.
    “He doesn’t I guess but I like to presume these things!” he continued staring at her and she shifted in the seat nervously, his gaze making her uncomfortable.
    “Do I get to choose my food or do you decide for me?” she asked, nudging her head in the waiter’s direction. Mark laughed.  He had a deep husky laugh and boyish eyes. “I might let you, if you’re good!”
    “I like to choose what I eat thanks!” she said raising her eyebrows. Her hair was left down as it had been on the day they met. He shifted his eyes to her chest, making no secret of it.
    “Take off the wrap!” he said. She looked down before looking back up at him, shaking her head.
    “I can’t,” she said.” People will see my tits,” she said trying to laugh it off.
    “I know. Now take it off,” he repeated. Amy looked at him and leaning forward, gazed into his dark eyes as she tried to gauge how serious he was. In the taxi he had been, so why wouldn’t he be now.
    She glanced round the room. Several couples sat huddled together taking very little notice of the world outside. Besides the maître d, there was only one youngish looking waiter and a barman who was distracted with his phone. Perhaps if she was careful, she might just get away without being noticed. She shrugged the wrap off, leaving it to fall round her waist. Through the material, the shape of her breasts could clearly be seen and her nipples were prominent, large and dark, they stood erect.
    She picked up the large menu and sat it in front of her as she hid behind it. She pondered over the long list of dishes and took several minutes in deciding. When she returned the menu to the table, Mark was cupping the wine glass between fingers as he stared out the window, watching people go by.
    “So, I take it you are choosing?” he asked, smiling at her. Amy